Once Upon a Full Moon
by lokilette
Summary: The win in 1998 was supposed to fix everything. Light conquered Dark, Voldemort fell, and everyone was supposed to live happily ever after. But real life doesn't work quite like fairy tales do, and as the Wizarding World is quickly discovering, some wounds take longer to heal. But the werewolves are sick of waiting. In 2021, they decide it's their turn.
1. Raridan

**Chapter 1**

 **Raridan**

 _There are two wolves who live in us all:_

 _One evil—full of anger, envy, and greed._

 _One good—full of love, hope and faith._

 _Which one wins?_

 _The one that you feed._

 _~ Cherokee proverb_

* * *

 _Once upon a time there was a big, bad wolf who was neither as big nor as bad as the stories made him out to be. In reality, he just wanted to live a quiet life in the woods. But the townspeople convinced themselves the wolf was a villain, and they feared him. It wasn't his fault that he was a creature of darkness and, as such, that he always returned to the Dark. Still, the townspeople were afraid, so they tried to exterminate him, because that was the only way they could live happily ever after._

 _They failed. Now, it's the wolf's turn._

 **...oOo...**

 **[Spring, 1999]**

 **[22 years ago]**

"No, not that one!" Travis launched himself across the bed and snatched _The Three Little Pigs_ from his mother's hand, returning it to the shelf under the night stand.

Matthew rolled his eyes as he climbed beneath the thread-bare blankets, vowing to tune his family out. He'd outgrown bedtime stories years ago. The war had made it painfully obvious that there was no such thing as happily ever after. But Travis—well, he was too young to remember all of that, and Matthew didn't have the heart to tell him that the stories Mum read every night were nothing more than exaggerated lies.

"Why not that one?" Mum asked, sitting lightly on the edge of the bed and causing the mattress to dip under her weight.

"Because the wolf's the bad guy in that one." Travis didn't even look up as he rifled through their small collection of books.

Matthew poked his head out just long enough to mutter, "The wolf's _always_ the bad guy, Tray, 'cause it's a wolf," before withdrawing again to the warmth of the covers.

"Well, I _like_ wolves." Even though Matthew couldn't see him, there was no mistaking the indignation in his voice. "I'd be a wolf if I could. They're better than crummy, old people, at least."

"Travis! What's gotten into you?" Mum asked.

Matthew peeked out to find his brother sitting on the floor with his arms crossed and his lip stuck out in a pout, making it clear that he had no intention of answering.

"He's just mad 'cause the Poke boys were making fun of him again today."

"Oh, dear. Are they still giving you a hard time?" The mattress springs groaned in protest as Mum stood, her dress whispering against her heels as she went and squatted by his side. "I'll call up Mrs. Poke in the morning. I've got a few choice words for her and her husband."

As much as Matthew enjoyed the idea of a confrontation—Mum could get downright scary when she wanted—he also noted the terror-stricken look on Travis' face. No boy wanted his mother interfering. Just imagine what the other kids would say when they found out.

"It's all right, Mum. I took care of it," Matthew said, slipping the blanket down to his shoulders so he could see out.

"I'm afraid to ask, but what exactly did you do?"

"Nothing. I just asked 'em to stop."

Mum quirked her eyebrows, pursed her lips, and gave him _the look_. The one that said she knew better than to believe that and it'd do him well to not lie, if he knew what was good for him.

"And that didn't work, so I punched him in the face."

"He made Bradley cry," Travis added, stifling a giggle behind his pudgy, little hand.

"Matthew John Morgan, what have I told you about violence?"

Matthew winced at the way his mother's voice gained a shrill, flute-like quality to it when she started a lecture—except without the same melodic ability.

"Relax, Mum, no one saw me."

"Well, there's that, I suppose." She sighed, making it clear that she was far too exhausted to go over this for easily the hundredth time, with it always falling on deaf ears. "Next time, you let _me_ handle it, understood?"

"Sure, Mum," Matthew agreed, though he shook his head as he rolled so his back was facing her. Like that would ever happen. The kids didn't need any more reasons to tease Travis.

"Here." Mum swooped Travis into her arms, ruffling his wheat-colored hair as she carried him to the bed. Matthew scooted over to make room for them both. Travis pressed against his back, sandwiched between him and Mum. "I've got a story about a wolf that was a sort of a hero. My father told it to me when I was a little older than you."

"Back when you lived in America?"

"That's right. I grew up in Ohio, before I met your father and moved here. This was a legend from the 1800s, when people were settling Ohio. They lived mostly off of farming and livestock, so they ran into a bit of trouble when wolves started killing their livestock. To solve the problem, they decided to hunt the wolves."

"I don't like this story," Travis whined.

"Just listen. It gets better, I promise. There was one wolf, though, who always evaded the hunters. His name was Old Raridan. The hunters managed to kill all the other wolves, creating a wolf graveyard of sorts at a place known as Big Rock. All that was left was Old Raridan and his mate, and he protected her fiercely. There were rumors that Old Raridan was immortal, that he couldn't be killed at all, but that wasn't really true. He was just in love, and people and wolves alike will go to great lengths for those they love. So when the hunters finally managed to corner his mate and shoot her, Old Raridan descended on them, chasing their dogs away and rescuing his wounded love. The hunters opened fire on them both. Despite being mortally wounded, Old Raridan dragged his mate away from the hunters and up Big Rock, where no humans dared to go. There, they died together. To this day, it's said that Old Raridan still haunts the forest around Big Rock, chasing away intruders and protecting any wolves that venture into his domain."

Mum paused to let the story sink in. Travis sniffed but otherwise remained silent. After a minute, he declared, "I don't like it."

"Why not?"

"You didn't say they lived happily ever after."

"That's because they died, stupid," Matthew said. He heard the _"nya"_ as Travis stuck his tongue out, but he didn't bother to roll over and look.

"I wanted them to live happily ever after," Travis whined.

"They died in the arms of someone they loved. Who's to say they weren't happy, after living a long and prosperous life together?"

Matthew scoffed and buried himself deeper in the blanket, swallowing all the things he wanted to say. Even if it was the truth, he still didn't have the heart to tell his brother that no one really lived happily ever after—not Muggles, not Wizards, and certainly not wolves.

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 19, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

"Raridan?"

He started, freeing himself from the memories that had captivated him. How long had he been standing there in the crisp evening air? At least an hour, judging by the fast-approaching sunset. The sky was already blazing overhead with violent reds and golds. It promised to be a nice night; what more could one ask of the full moon?

"What is it?" Raridan asked over his shoulder, not bothering to look back. She would forgive him eventually for his biting tone. After all, they were mates. This was the one place he went to be alone, so if he could forgive her trespasses, then she could forgive his lack of manners.

"Everyone's in place. It's our turn now. Are you ready?" Her voice sounded almost like a purr, and he could feel his edge softening. It was a power she always had over him, like a siren lulling him to his doom. Even if that were the case, he'd gladly follow her, regardless.

"Of course."

Raridan squatted in front of the headstone he had spent all afternoon staring at, tracing a grimy finger over the words that he'd come to know so well.

 _Travis Stanley Morgan_

 _1995 – 2004_

 _And they lived happily ever after._

"This one's for you, little brother," he said under his breath, patting the stone lightly before standing up. "Let's go, Ylva."

She looped her arm through his, squeezing his forearm gently. She was a pristine marble statue in the fading light, stoic features chiseled from stone, golden hair glowing like a halo. But there was a shadow that flickered in her china-blue eyes. She was ready for the hunt tonight. Eager for it, even.

The world distorted around them, a swirling vortex of colors, and Raridan squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach lurched. No matter how many times he Apparated, he'd never get used to the sensation.

When he opened his eyes, they were at Scotland Place. It was a very Muggle-looking street, with cars rumbling by on occasion and an electric yellow glow leaking out from the windows of the tall buildings. The street lights were just turning on in preparation for the coming darkness, and the streets themselves were only populated by the occasional straggler.

"Are you sure about this?" Ylva asked as they rounded the corner, checking one final time that no one was paying attention to them.

"I'm more certain than I've ever been, my dear."

Raridan held open the door to the red phone booth, and Ylva flashed him a coy smile as she entered. He followed close behind her and dialed 62442. There was a slight grinding as the phone booth started to slide down towards the belly of the Ministry.

Raridan smiled as he caught sight of the sky one last time. It wouldn't be long now and the full moon would be rising. As they were swallowed by the darkness of the tunnel, he whispered, "I'll huff, and I'll puff, and I'll blow your house in."

* * *

 **Author's Note:** Written for the Quidditch Through the Ages Multi-Chapter Challenge from the Diagon Alley II forum, so this will be a multi-chapter. It's supposed to be 13 chapters, but we'll see if it grows on me towards the end. :3 There's an awful lot of experimentation in this multi-chap, so if something doesn't work, feel free to let me know. I also love and appreciate reviews, especially con-crit. :)

 **Prompts:**

(dialogue) "I'm more certain than I've ever been."

(situation) This chapter should focus on the tools, symbols, and setting up your characters. You're laying the foundations here, setting things up so that everything is in place for your story to begin.


	2. The Wolf At The Door

**Chapter 2**

 **The Wolf At The Door**

 _And you, my father, there on the sad height,_

 _Do not go gentle into that good night._

 _Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

 _~ Dylan Thomas_

 _ **[1997]**_

 _ **[24 years ago]**_

 _Eger planted himself in front of the door, arms crossed, doing his best to imitate the scowl that Grandad always gave him when he got in trouble._

" _You're not leaving, are you?"_

 _The answer was there plain as day in his father's body language: the averted gaze, the knitted brow, the fiddling with his tie. He was leaving again, and even though he shouldn't be surprised by now, there was still a heavy knot in Eger's gut. He had thought his father's promise had meant something; yet again, it was nothing but lies._

" _Listen, Eggy, I have to go." Dad knelt down in front of him, gently clutching his shoulders and squeezing. It was supposed to be reassuring, but it wasn't, and Eger wished he wouldn't use his nickname to break bad news. "There's been an accident. Everyone in the MMAC is being called in. I don't have a choice."_

" _But you_ promised _. You said we'd spend time together tonight and then you'd tuck me in and tell me a story."_

" _I know. I know I did, and I will. Tomorrow. For real this time. But tonight you can stay with Grandad, and he'll tuck you in. How does that sound?"_

 _It sounded like dragon dung is how it sounded, but he couldn't say that because then he'd get in trouble. Instead, Eger whined, "Noooo, I don't want Grandad to tuck me in. I don't like his stories. He always talks about his adventures with some guy named Moody." Eger lowered his voice and leaned in like it was a secret as he said, "And he's really weird and kinda scary."_

" _I know you probably want a fairy tale where everyone lives happily ever after but...Well, life's not that simple, buddy. Grandad knows that. That's why he tells you those stories. There are bad people who do bad things, but that's why I'm here doing what I do, and that's why your grandpa did what he did for so long."_

" _For every bad guy, there's gotta be a good guy, right?" That's what Grandad always said, at least._

" _Something like that." Dad paused to study his features, and even though Eger tried to scrunch up his face and look mad, the fight was draining out of him. What was the point? "So, do you understand why I have to go?"_

" _Yeah, Dad, it's fine." Eger bit his lip and kicked at the carpet, looking anywhere but his father's face. It wasn't fine, but what else could he say? Nothing would change. "Grandad's stories aren't that bad, I guess. Go save the world."_

" _That's my boy."_

 _Dad ruffled his hair and kissed him lightly on the top of the head before disappearing into the study. A moment later, Eger heard the unmistakable whoosh of Floo travel._

 _Of course real life was messy and not at all like the stories, but just once, Eger wanted someone to pretend that it was—for him. Just once, he wanted someone to pretend there was actually a chance that people could end up living happily ever after._

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 19, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

Darkness. It was the first thing he remembered, and the thing he came back to time and time again like an unavoidable curse. Even as he glanced out of the enchanted Ministry windows, he couldn't avoid it. At some point during his work, night had fallen. That explained the ache in his legs and the pain in his butt. Just another late night in an endless string of late nights.

Eger stood, stretching his muscles slowly despite their protests. The new position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was great, but it wasn't without sacrifice. The more the hours piled up, the more he felt like his father—dodging social engagements, out at all hours, always making excuses. The world was full of bad guys, and there just weren't enough good guys to go around.

With one last weary look at the stack of papers leaning haphazardly on his desk, Eger slipped his overcoat on. He put out the lights with a flick of his wand and pulled the door shut as he entered the hall. If he was lucky, he figured he could get a few good hours of sleep before returning to the beat first thing in the morning.

The silence was shattered by the clicking of heels, and a moment later, Mrs. Granger-Weasley emerged from her office, head buried in the open file in her hand.

"Work late again, Mr. Daniels?" she asked without even glancing up from her papers.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Well, take care of yourself."

"Of course. Same to you."

She passed by, click-clicking down the hall, and Eger continued his long walk to the nearest Floo. He knew all too well what Mrs. Granger-Weasley had meant. After all, he was heading the case of all the Ministry members who had gone missing lately. No bodies found. No sign of a struggle. They were just...gone. Twenty-two people just up and disappeared, and always overnight. Not enough that the Ministry couldn't cover it up and investigate internally, not just yet, but soon they wouldn't be able to hide from the public. Still, it was enough to recognize that they were on the precipice of something he had hoped to never encounter again in his lifetime.

Eger grabbed some Floo powder in passing and said, "Daniels estate," as he dropped it into the fire. The green flames cleared, and he was greeted with darkness. The old manor was far too big for a bachelor, and it always was draped in silence and cobwebs, but he didn't have the heart to sell it. Grandad still insisted it was time to settle down and work on filling the rooms, but who had the time?

With a sigh, Eger tossed his wand on the end table and slipped off his overcoat, depositing it on the back of the sofa. There was no way he'd get to sleep with the way his mind was racing, so he figured a little something to ease his nerves wouldn't hurt.

He made his way to the liquor cabinet—another inheritance his father left for him. It was like a dance in the dark. Fifteen steps from the sofa, next to his mother's antique floor lamp. Don't catch the rug, and don't break the lamp. He'd performed this dance enough times to know it by heart.

There was no rhyme or reason to how the cabinet was laid out—there never was—so Eger just stuck his hand in and pulled out the first bottle he grabbed. Firewhisky, judging by the size and shape of the bottle. That would do just fine. He tipped it up to his lips and took a swig.

As the liquid burned a trail down his gullet, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. It was more than just the alcohol, he knew, that was causing his body to tingle as if electricity was arcing down his spine. It was a feeling he was more than familiar with. Someone was watching him.

Eger scrutinized the room he was in, but the only thing he could see were shadows, waltzing under the light of the nearly-full moon that filtered through the thin drapes. He raised the bottle to his lips again, more cautious this time, watching the room with one eye. By the time he noticed the silhouette in the corner moving, it was too late to reach his wand.

The bottle slipped from his hand as the room was engulfed in a flash of white, and the spell hit him in the chest.

The last thing he heard was the tinkling of shattering glass, and he felt the splattering of liquid at his feet. _What a waste_ , he thought as he felt himself falling out of consciousness. The darkness rushed to meet him, and he embraced it, because why not? He was used to the dark.

 **...oOo...**

 _ **[1997]**_

 _ **[24 years ago]**_

 _His father was sneaking out. Again. Eger was almost tired of trying to catch him in the act and going through the same charade of apologies and promises that would eventually end up broken. Almost._

" _Work owled again?" he asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame of the study, the way Mum used to when she was mad._

" _Not this time, Eggy."_

 _Dad smiled, but Eger knew that look. There was a "but" lingering at the end of that sentence. It just hadn't been said yet. His father glanced at the fire and rubbed his palms together._

" _But we've got one quick stop to make first. I'm just going to swing by the Ministry—really fast, you'll hardly even notice—and then we'll go to Grandad's for dinner. How's that sound?"_

" _You'll be quick?" Eger asked, letting his arms fall back to his sides._

" _Just in and out, I promise."_

 _There was that word again. At least this way he'd be there, just in case Dad got distracted and forgot what he was supposed to be doing._

" _All right, but only if I can have_ two _chocolate frogs for dessert tonight."_

" _'Atta boy, Eggy."_

 _Dad smiled, wrinkles creasing his features. There was a twinkle in his eyes that had been missing for a while. Ever since things started going south with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Ever since Mum died last year trying to rescue Muggles on the Millennium Bridge._

" _C'mon, I'll show you my new office," Dad said as he steered Eger into the Floo. He had worked hard for his position in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, and Eger was proud of him. If only the work days weren't so long._

 _The Ministry was full and bristling with life when they stepped out of the Floo on the other end, and Dad wrapped an arm around his shoulders and kept him close so he wouldn't get lost in the swarm. A few people greeted them, witches and wizards Eger had never met, but everyone was in a hurry so no one stopped. Which suited him just fine. He had better things to do than pretend to be interested in Dad's colleagues._

" _It's just here, Eggy," Dad announced, withdrawing his wand from his robes and waving it as he undid the enchantments on the door. He went immediately to his desk and started rifling through papers and manilla folders, but he glanced up momentarily to say, "I'll be just a moment. You can have a look around, if you'd like."_

 _Eger walked the perimeter of the office. It wasn't a bad size. Bigger than the cubicle Dad had been working in before and with more privacy, for sure. That meant no more Mr. Tweed, who somehow always smelled of fish, poking his head over the divider._

 _A photo on the desk caught his eye, and Eger picked it up. It was of the three of them, though Eger had been too young at the time to remember it being taken. It had only been a year, but he was already starting to forget things about Mum. She was beautiful, though. Too bad he didn't look more like her. He looked like Grandad, he supposed, but with more hair and less wrinkles._

 _Reluctantly, he returned it to its spot on the desk, turning his attention to the door of the office. There was something going on in the hall. Someone was shouting, but he couldn't quite make out the words. When he glanced at his father, his stomach somersaulted and his breath hitched in his throat. Dad's face was blanched white, and his eyebrows were practically touching. Something was wrong._

 _Then the screaming started, and the air was filled with the sizzle of spells. Colors reflected off the glass of the office windows, creating a dazzling light show._

" _Dad? Wha-"_

 _Before Eger could finish the thought, his father scooped him up, and everything became a blur of robes and colors. When he got his bearings back, he realized they were heading down the hallway towards the large meeting room at the end of the hall that had the closest Floo._

 _Amid the bumping and jostling of being carried, Eger snuck a cautious glance over his father's shoulder. The intruders were skeletons with black, billowing robes and empty eye sockets—or that's what he thought, at first. But even the realization that they were wearing masks didn't make them any less terrifying._

 _Suddenly, he was sliding, and it took a moment for to register that Dad was setting him down._

" _Listen." Dad knelt down in front of him so their eyes met. That was never a good sign. "I need you to go to Grandad and tell him what's happening here. If the Ministry falls today...Just tell him the Death Eaters are here. Can you do that for me?"_

 _Eger didn't like where this was going, but there wasn't time to argue. It was important and it had to be done, so he just nodded vigorously._

" _Grab some Floo powder and go. Quickly, now." Eger started to walk away, but Dad grabbed his hand and pulled him tight against his chest. "I love you, Eggy."_

" _I love you too, Dad," Eger mumbled into his robes._

 _In an instant, his father was gone, closing the doors behind him with a flick of his wand. Eger was alone, but he could still hear the fighting through the large, wooden doors. The Death Eaters had caught up to them. He dashed across the room, scooping a handful of green powder from the bucket and stepping up to the fireplace._

 _Eger paused, just for a moment. Even through the closed doors, the voices outside were loud and clear, enough so to make his hands shake and his knees weak. A cold, hard voice drawled, "Crucio," and his father's screams echoed around the room._

 _His face was already wet and sticky with tears, and even though his whole body was trembling, he made sure to steady his voice as he stepped into the fire._

" _Daniels estate."_

 _His father never made it home that night. Even though the Dark had won, he knew there were people out there still fighting—raging against the dying of the Light._

 **...oOo...**

 **October 20, 2021**

 **[present day]**

Eger hoped, with the way his head throbbed with every pulse of his heart, that he had died, but no such luck. He opened his eyes to find that he was stretched out on the couch, with the imminent sunrise just starting to turn the world gray outside.

Last night was nothing but a haze of scrambled memories. It involved working late—that much he knew. It always did. After that, the timeline was a bit fuzzy. He didn't remember getting home or falling asleep, but if the shattered Firewhisky bottle in the corner was any indication, it was more likely he'd simply passed out from exhaustion.

Eger grabbed his wand from the end table and cleaned himself off. It was nothing fancy, but it'd have to do.

By the time the sunrise was in full swing, bleeding red and purple and gold onto the sparse clouds overhead, Eger was making his way through the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Arriving early had its merits. At least he didn't have to deal with the nuisance of the crowds.

"Hey, Daniels!"

Eger paused at the voice, though he considered simply rounding the last corner to his office and waiting there. Odinel White was a talker, and though Eger's headache had dulled slightly since arriving, it was nowhere near gone. The last thing he wanted was to be caught in the hall when the first wave of Ministry workers showed up.

"Where were you last night?" Odie asked as he jogged the last few paces to close the gap between them.

"What do you mean? I was at home." Eger resumed walking, and Odie fell into step next to him.

"No, you weren't. I tried to contact you through Floo, but you didn't answer. I even sent Potamus with a letter, but he returned with it undelivered."

"I worked pretty late last night. You might've just missed me. And I hate to mention it, but, you know, Potato's getting pretty old."

"You better not let him hear you say that. He hates that nickname, and you know how touchy he gets."

It was true; that owl was a menace. Took a sizable chunk of his finger the last time he made the mistake of calling him Potato to his face.

"Though, I suppose you're right." Odie sighed, shoving one hand in his pocket while he rubbed the stubble along his chin with the other. "He tried to eat my slipper the other day, you know. Guess he thought it was a fish or something. Can't imagine it tasted all that great, though."

They stopped just outside Eger's office, and Odie chewed his cheek thoughtfully for a minute.

"Listen, I'm just glad that you're okay. Had me worried for a bit there."

"I'm fine." Eger pulled out his wand and released all the wards sealing the office. "Besides," he added as he opened the door and turned on the lights, "even if they did kidnap me, you know they'd just bring me right back, the pain in the ass that I am."

"Isn't that the truth." Odie laughed, and Eger felt his edge wearing off a little. Seriousness didn't suit his friend one bit.

"Is there something you needed me for last night?"

Eger threw his overcoat on a chair in the corner, earning him a glare from Odie, who motioned to the coat rack by the door.

"Not exactly, but I found something that I thought you might be interested in." Odie snatched the overcoat up and hung it neatly on a hook with a satisfied smile. "As you know, I've been going through the old werewolf case files, trying to find anything that might help us figure out what they're up to or why they're targeting Ministry members."

"You mean besides the obvious distaste for being treated as second-class citizens?" Eger collapsed into his chair, sinking into the soft leather and cushioning. His whole body ached, and he felt exhausted, even though he slept like a rock. It was going to be one hell of a long day.

"Vampires get similar treatment, and you don't see them retaliating like this."

"No, they just wait until we're all dead and then laugh as they dance on our graves." Eger motioned to the manilla folder in Odie's hands. "What'd you find?"

"One Remus John Lupin. Sound familiar?"

Odie's voice raised the way it always did when he got excited, and he squirmed his way onto the edge of the desk as Eger peeked into the file.

"Grandad knew him. He's mentioned him once or twice."

"That's because he was a member of the Order of the Phoenix. But even more than that, he was a werewolf."

"He also died twenty-five years ago. What's he have to do with this?"

Eger snapped the file shut and threw it onto his desk. There was no need to really read it anyway. Odie was already fidgeting, eager to spill whatever it was he'd found.

"Well, it's not so much about him as his circumstance. See, he was turned when he was young by Fenrir Greyback."

"Who's also dead."

"Not the point." Odie shot him a 'shut up and let me talk' look, so Eger motioned for him to continue. "His father, Lyall Lupin, worked for the Ministry. I don't have all the details—the report's a bit shoddy, if you ask me—but Mr. Lupin apparently said some not-so-nice things about werewolves in front of Mr. Greyback."

"Let me guess, Mr. Greyback was less than thrilled?" Eger leaned back in his chair and propped his feet up on the edge of his desk.

"That's one way of putting it." Odie scowled and pushed his feet back onto the floor before continuing. "In retaliation, Mr. Greyback went to Mr. Lupin's house the night of the full moon and bit his son. Could've killed him, but he didn't. Just turned him."

"That's one hell of a way to get even, but what's that got to do with my case?"

"What if the same thing's happening here? What if they're turning people to get even?"

"That's ridiculous." Eger scoffed and waved his hand to dismiss the idea. Though, Odie never did anything half-cocked, which meant he must have put a lot of thought into the theory and still he ended up at that conclusion. Their eyes met, and Odie quirked his eyebrows. "Say, for some reason, I believe you. Werewolves can only spread lycanthropy once a month under the full moon."

"Sure, if you assume that certain factors are given, like that they've transformed. But if you change the parameters slightly..."

"Such as?"

"Werewolf's blood. It's really just the juices that spread lycanthropy, and only when they're transformed."

"Disgusting, but go on."

"If someone were to, say, collect werewolf's blood during a full moon, they could, in theory, turn someone any time they wanted. Wouldn't even be detectable. Slip it into a drink, some food, anything."

The thought itself was horrifying. Anyone, anywhere would potentially be a werewolf and not even know it until the full moon. That right there would be enough to turn the whole Wizarding world inside out and have it buckle under its own paranoia.

"It's a theory," Odie said, shrugging as he stood up. "I'll keep digging. See if I can find any amount of substantial evidence or anything to lend credence to it. Just figured you'd want to know where I'd gotten."

"Yeah, thanks." Odie made it to the door of the office before Eger called after him, "Hey, Odie? Keep me informed."

"Sure thing."

Odie flashed one last grin before disappearing into the hall, slamming the door on his way out. Eger winced at the thunderclap of sound and the way it rattled around in his brain longer than it should have. Things were about to get very complicated very quickly.

Regardless of what lie he had spoon-fed to Odie, Eger was beginning to have his doubts. He couldn't remember anything after work last night, and it wasn't like him to be unreachable, certainly not since getting this new position. He was directly under the Deputy Head herself, and Merlin be damned if he was going to let all that slip through his fingers. So what really happened last night? Nothing as far as he could recall, but Wizards had rather convenient ways of making people forget, so that didn't hold much weight.

Eger forced his doubts from his mind and poured himself into his work, instead. He spent the day going over the missing wizards cases for what felt like the thousandth time, hoping to find some correlation to point him in the right direction. The last person who went missing, there had been a note, but it was written in alchemical symbols, which few people studied these days. The requisition for a translator had already been put in, but all the paperwork could take weeks to get through, and time wasn't a luxury they had. He'd had no choice but to pass it further up the chain, and he had no doubt that Mrs. Granger-Weasley was down the hall at that moment working on it.

He skipped lunch and took no breaks, and when Eger glanced at the clock again it was 6:30. All that time spent, and he wasn't closer to, well, anything. It wasn't even that late, yet he felt fatigue so deep within him that it was even in his bones, causing them to ache. And the headache! If it got any worse, he was sure his head would simply split open from the pressure. Maybe Odie was right and he'd been overdoing it lately. It was time to call it a night.

As he stood, the first wave of pain broke over him. Something was desperately wrong. The ache had progressed to a burn that seared him from the inside out, reducing him to a useless blob curled into the fetal position on the floor. He tried to cry out, but the sound escaped his lips as a groan as the pain overtook him. His skin itched and burned like it was being assaulted by millions of fire ants. His bones broke beneath his skin with muted pops, each one radiating enough pain to drive anyone mad.

The worst part was the shadow that had been lingering in the recesses of his mind, hidden, that was fighting to break free, and he felt himself slipping. No, he wouldn't give in that easily to the darkness. He had to fight.

Eger pushed himself onto his hands and knees, struggling against his body even as it seemed to be ripping apart. Hair was erupting down his arm, and his fingernails hardened and extended, almost like...claws. Sluggishly, his mind put together the signs. He was transforming, but that was impossible.

The wolf was already at the door of his mind, knocking to enter, and though he tried, there was no way to stop it from taking over. The last thing he remembered was pain and cold and rage, then the darkness was smothering the light. He could've sworn he heard screaming from beyond the door, and his final thought was that he was six years old again listening to his father die.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** The experiment continues! Again, trying lots of stuff here, not all of which will work, so con crit is always very much appreciated. I know, I know. Another OC. But well-known HP characters come into play starting next chapter, I promise. :)

 **Prompts:**

"Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night" by Dylan Thomas

This chapter is what came before, what has happened in the past that has lead to this. It should be a flashback, or at least comprising mainly of flashbacks.


	3. Snake in the Wolves' Den

**Chapter 3**

 **Snake in the Wolves' Den**

 _Once upon a time there was a Dark Wizard who sought to conquer the Wizarding world and a boy who lived. There was a know-it-all who realized she still had much to learn and a boy who discovered he was more than just a cowardly lion. The Light vanquished the Dark, and the power of love triumphed over hate. Then, they all lived happily ever after._

 _Growing up, I believed in a lot of things. I wished on stars. I thought it perfectly normal that reindeer could fly. I was terrified of the monster under my bed. I assumed good always overcame evil and that everyone lived happily ever after. But happily ever after just ended, and I'm not sure what to believe anymore._

 _~ Hermione Granger-Weasley_

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 20, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

The quiet that gripped the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was unnerving. Hermione was so used to the bustling crowds that the idea of actually being alone with her thoughts for a change was daunting. They weren't exactly pleasant thoughts, either.

Another wizard had gone missing, something that was becoming far too commonplace, and all signs pointed to the werewolves. Again. It was hard to blame them for resenting their classification as sub-human. Merlin knows she'd been touting equality and fairness since the earliest days of S.P.E.W. Things had started to change, but not fast enough.

The werewolves had taken matters into their own hands—kidnapping, murdering, turning. With the last victim, for whatever reason, they'd left a note. Fat lot of good that did her, unreadable as it was, and she didn't have the luxury of time to research and decipher it.

A sharp rap on the door scattered her thoughts. Hermione hastily smoothed her robes and made sure her hair was in place. There was no hiding the dark circles and fret lines that had become permanent features after months of heading this case, but she could at least attempt to look put-together.

"Come in."

The door pushed open, and the man who stepped through had the same slicked-back, blond hair as always, though with, perhaps, a few more silver hairs than when they had last met. In that, at least, he wasn't alone.

"I hope this is a good time."

"Now is fine, Mr. Malfoy."

He quirked his eyebrows but said nothing. Hermione motioned to the chair across from her, and he took a seat, crossing one leg over the other and leaning his cane against the desk.

"I have to admit, I was surprised to get your owl, _Mrs. Weasley,_ but I'm always happy to help the Ministry when I can."

"I'm sure you're familiar with everything that's been happening lately."

"You mean what they're calling the 'Werewolf Rebellion'? I've heard some things."

"Then I'm sure you appreciate how sensitive an issue it is, and I trust that anything we say won't leave this room."

"You have my word."

Hermione knew better than to trust it, the very same word that had gotten so many people killed. Still, that was decades ago, and there was a sincerity in those icy eyes that she couldn't deny. Besides, it wasn't like she really had a choice in the matter. She was running out of options; there was nowhere else to turn.

"I need your help."

It took all her professionalism not to respond to the half-smile that crept onto his face as he shifted in his seat and leaned forward slightly.

"Well now, I never imagined there'd come a day when Miss Hermione Granger would require my assistance. Last time I offered my help, you told me it would be, 'a cold day in hell,' I believe it was, when you would let me assist with a case."

Hermione clenched her jaw against all the words she wanted to say: how this meeting was against her better judgment, how he was an absolute last resort, how people really never changed, certainly not as much as he'd have everyone believe.

"Yes, well, things are different," she said instead, sliding the parchment she'd been studying all day across the desk towards him. "And I, unfortunately, never studied alchemy."

Hermione watched his eyes trace the circle in the center of the parchment, then the hexagram, and finally the various alchemical symbols. Understanding dawned in his face as the muscles in his jaw clenched and flexed and fret lines appeared on his forehead.

"Where did you get this?" he asked without looking up.

"It was stuck to the door of one of the victim's houses. I honestly have no idea _why_ they chose alchemical symbols—"

"Because the history of werewolves is deeply embedded in alchemy. It's how the first werewolf was created. It's how they used to pass encrypted notes to each other. Even the Wolfsbane Potion originally started with alchemy." He was quiet for a moment, finger pressed against his lips as he thought, before saying, "Tell me, how long ago did you find this?"

"A little over a week." Hermione waited, but he didn't say anything, and she hated feeling so useless. "What is it?"

"A manifest, I suppose you could say. Look here." Malfoy set the parchment on the desk and pointed to a symbol that looked like a flower: an open circle on top framed by a bell curve underneath with the length of its stem forming a cross. "This is the sign for antimony, which is often represented as a wolf. And this symbol here," he moved his finger to the right and pointed to two circles connected by an arc, "indicates the process of purifying."

"Purifying what, exactly?"

Malfoy slid his finger to an upside-down triangle with two lines in it.

"Blood."

"How?" Malfoy sat quietly again, ignoring the comment. Hermione let him have his moment, but then a minute ticked by, then two and three. "Mr. Malfoy!"

He visibly started, looking up like he'd forgotten where he was. She was in no mood to play games with him. She needed whatever information he had, and she needed it now. This was the closest they'd gotten to answers in a while.

"Tell me, have you found any bodies?" he asked absentmindedly, still scrutinizing the paper on the desk.

"What do you mean?"

"The wizards who go missing, have their bodies turned up?"

"Well...no."

It was something that had been bothering her as well. They were presumed dead, only because the Ministry had no other way of dealing with the situation, but with how many people were gone, the likelihood of never finding any trace of them...Well, she wasn't so easily convinced.

"What have you found?"

"Here." He pointed to a circle with an arrow pointing off of it.

"Isn't that...the sign for male?"

"Yes, but before that it meant Mars."

"The God of War?"

"Well, yes, but in alchemy it's about controlling your primal urges, your instincts, while still embracing them. Hermione, they're turning people. I don't know how—and it doesn't really say here—but they're manufacturing a veritable army of werewolves. Anyone could be a werewolf, and you'd never even know it until the full moon."

Anyone. An angry throb began beating against her temples. The Werewolf Rebellion had just become very real. Worse yet, she had no idea how to stop it.

 **...oOo...**

 _ **[2007]**_

 _ **[14 years ago]**_

" _Once upon a time, there was a little girl who lived in a village near the forest." Hermione slid deeper into the bedsheets as Rose snuggled closer, resting her head on her mother's chest. Little Red Riding Hood had been one of Hermione's favorites growing up, and her parents would tuck her into bed much the same way. It was a memory she wanted to pass on._

 _As Hermione read, Rose squirmed less and less until her breathing became a steady tempo. Even though she was aware the words fell on deaf ears, Hermione finished up the story just the same._

" _...and they all lived happily ever after."_

 _By the time she closed the book and set it on the nightstand next to her, Rose was fast asleep, grunting every now and then at something in her dreams. When Hermione glanced up, she found Ron standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. When had he gotten home? She hadn't even heard him arrive._

" _Blimey, 'Mione, she's only a year old. What are you reading her that stuff for anyway?"_

" _You're never too young for a good book, Ron."_

" _A good book?" He snorted, and she shot him a warning glance because if he woke Rose up again then so help her, Merlin. "How can someone not even know that their grandmother's a wolf? I mean, you'd be able to tell, wouldn't you?"_

" _It's just meant to be a bit of fun," Hermione said as she slipped out of bed carefully, making sure not to disturb Rose. "My parents read fairy tales to me when I was younger, too."_

" _Eating little girls and hacking up wolves to bits is fun? Bloody hell, Muggles are scary."_

 _Hermione rolled her eyes as she passed him. He was wrong in so many ways. You could tell that someone was a wolf, right? There was a time when she would have said yes, but that was before she met Professor Lupin. Now that she knew better, not all fairy tales seemed as ridiculous as they had growing up._

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 20, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

"What, uh, what else does it say?" Hermione asked, motioning to the parchment. She didn't really want to ask; she didn't really want to know. She couldn't imagine it would start with people turning into werewolves and then get better from there, and wasn't that enough?

"I've never seen some of these symbols before. They're not in the old manuscripts, but then again, like everything else, it changes with the times. But this circle, I'm pretty sure that's the full moon, and this triangle is fire. And this," he slid his finger across the page to a plus sign connected to a capital E, "is ash."

"Is that...a skull?" Hermione asked, pointing to a symbol to the right of where his finger was.

"Yes. _Caput mortuum_ , or worthless remains. That's what they call the useless things that are left over after alchemy. In other words, us. It's a threat. I don't know against who, but whatever it is, it'll happen under the full moon."

Hermione rifled through her desk for a calendar—neatness had gone out the window along with her sanity—and finally managed to find one shoved to the back of a drawer. It was a bit worse for wear, but she smoothed it out over the desk and scanned the days.

"Tonight," she said as the pulsing in her temple beat more fervently, sounding a warning in her mind. "Tonight's the full moon."

Malfoy pulled a pocket watch from his robes and glanced at it.

"It's already 6:30. The moon will be rising soon."

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy, you've been very helpful."

With a flick of her wand, Hermione cleared her desk, sending everything back to their proper places. Another flick and a flurry of papers hurled themselves across the room, creating a lopsided, unruly stack that she immediately turned her self-writing quill loose upon. Even though it was after hours, the Ministry never closed, and there were still a good number of people in the department to notify. Everyone needed to be on the lookout. It was going to be one hell of a long night.

"The Ministry appreciates your cooperation, and I hope you don't mind seeing yourself out, but I'm really very busy." Hermione waved her hand towards the door, hoping he'd take the hint.

The first few hastily-scribbled letters were finished, and she swiped her wand towards them. They shuddered for a moment before folding in on themselves to form airplanes that zoomed out of the room.

Malfoy stood and retrieved his cane, but he didn't leave.

"I'm not going anywhere, Herm—Mrs. Weasley. I have no doubt that you could use another person to help mobilize the rest of the department."

"As, uh, noble as I'm sure your intentions are, I can't have you wandering around the Ministry."

"Oh?" Malfoy raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms. It was clear she was in for a fight, and she didn't have time for any of it. He, of all people, should realize they were on the brink of war. "And why is that?"

"Because you don't work here. This is beyond your jurisdiction. Besides, what's to say you're not a werewolf, too?"

She had never been so tempted to use "because I said so," not even with her own children. Why did he have to be so bloody difficult? It was feeling more and more like his lifelong goal was to always be in the way, and he was damn good at it.

"Please." Malfoy scoffed as he uncrossed his arms, resting the tip of his cane on the floor. "Do I look like I'd allow myself to become a werewolf?"

No, Hermione had to admit not. Even the thought of it seemed absurd now that it was said. She had no idea how, but Malfoy would find a way to handle it himself, away from the public, like he always did. But that still didn't mean she had any intention of letting him get any more involved in the case than he already was. There was too much at stake.

Before she could properly admonish him, they were interrupted by shouts from down the hall. Her letters should have circulated by now, so even though it was a fool's hope, she thought maybe someone had discovered something. Please let it be that; she didn't want to think about what the alternative would be.

"Stay here," she ordered Malfoy as she stepped out of the office, and he nodded his understanding.

Every other light in the hall was off, as per usual for after hours at the Ministry, but considering everything she knew, it did nothing to ease her nerves. Everything was quiet suddenly. The hall was deserted, and whatever had caused the commotion, it seemed to have died down for now.

"Daniels? Have you found something?"

Eger Daniels was relatively new to the department, which meant he had a lot to prove—a task that he took very seriously. He worked late many nights and put in more hours than most of the veterans. He reminded her a bit of herself, years ago when she first started, and he was damn good at his job.

"Daniels?"

The hair on the back of her neck stood on end, tingling down her spine like jolts of electricity. It wasn't like him not to answer. She slipped her wand out of her robe as she approached his office, one foot crossing the other. There was a soft sound coming from the room that sounded similar to crying but not quite. Something about it was familiar, like she'd heard it before, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

"Everything all right, Daniels?" Hermione asked as she pushed the door open slowly, readying her wand just in case. The door slammed open as something barreled through it, knocking her against the wall and sending her wand skittering across the floor. The impact left her gasping for air, suffocating under a mass of musky fur. The werewolf growled from on top of her, and she could feel the vibrations reverberating through her body. Where had that bloody wand gone? She groped blindly, desperately, along the floor hoping her fingers would brush against wood any moment.

" _Incarcerous_!"

In a flash of white, the weight was lifted from her chest, and she scrambled for her wand, gripping it white-knuckled in her trembling hand. The scent of werewolf still haunted her—earthy like dirt and a bit like a wet dog.

"I told you to stay put," Hermione snapped as she leveled her wand at the werewolf, steadying her nerves and reestablishing her calm.

"A simple 'thank you' would have sufficed." Malfoy tsked as he slipped his wand back up his sleeve and rested both hands on the top of his cane. "You're welcome, by the way."

"I didn't need your help."

"Right, because you're the great Hermione Granger, brightest witch of our age." Malfoy rolled his eyes, and Hermione cursed inwardly at the burn that was creeping up her cheeks. "You know, it's okay to accept help sometimes."

 **...oOo...**

 _ **[2011]**_

 _ **[10 years ago]**_

" _Rose, time to come down now," Hermione called, shielding her eyes against the evening sun as looked up into the tree._

" _I_ can't _, Mummy."_

" _Oh? And why is that?"_

" _Because I'm waiting for a prince to rescue me."_

" _From a tree?"_

" _Daddy says a tree almost killed him and Uncle Harry when they went to Hogwarts." Rose nodded solemnly, and it took all Hermione's resolve to keep from laughing at her earnestness. She made a mental note that sometime she'd have to tell the_ real _story. Something told her that Ron hadn't quite done it justice._

" _Did he, now? Can't you just save yourself?"_

 _Rose rolled her eyes and sighed. "No, I'm not a prince."_

" _Of course. Silly me."_

 _At that moment, the gate creaked open, and Ron stepped into the yard. Impeccable timing, as always. He looked pale and exhausted, the bags under his eyes belying how well his job was going, but he smiled anyway, as if none of that existed here._

" _What's this? Is that a damsel in distress I see?" Ron slipped his coat off his shoulders and let it crumple to the ground, forgotten._

" _Daddy!" Rose giggled with glee, kicking her feet._

" _That's Prince Charming to you, fair lady, and I'm here to rescue you from that vile tree!" He rolled up his sleeves as he approached the tree, sizing up his opponent._

 _With exaggerated movements, Ron brandished his wand and swept Rose off the branch, pulling her to his chest and shielding her with his body. He shot a few sparks at the tree, each fizzling out harmlessly in the air, as he shouted valiant-sounding threats at it._

" _There," he announced triumphantly, setting Rose on the ground. "I think that beast learned its lesson. What do you think?"_

" _My hero!" Rose planted a kiss on his cheek before running off towards the house, giggling loudly._

" _Rooon." He looked at Hermione sheepishly as she drew out his name. "What sort of lesson is that teaching her? She doesn't_ need _someone to rescue her. She could've climbed down herself."_

" _Sure she could've 'Mione." Ron slipped an arm around her shoulder, but she pushed it off and motioned to his abandoned coat in the middle of the yard. He went to retrieve it as he continued, " She's an independent little girl, no doubt about that. And in a couple years, she'll want nothing to do with us because she can do it_ all by herself." _He paused in front of her, planting a kiss on her cheek. "But still, sometimes it's okay to ask for help. Everyone needs help now and then."_

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 20, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

The werewolf grunted and growled, straining against its restraints. He howled, long and low, and the sound was echoed throughout the floor as werewolves joined the chorus one by one.

"You're right, Draco. I could use your help," Hermione conceded with a heavy sigh, even though it still pained her to admit it. There was no telling exactly how many wolves were roaming the halls of the Ministry at this point, but it was a safe bet that it was more than one witch could handle.

"Draco?" He raised his eyebrows in amusement while Hermione narrowed hers.

" _Mr. Malfoy_ ," she corrected in an attempt to save face, but it was too late. There had already been a crack in the armor.

The Daniels-werewolf was still struggling against his restraints, and for a second, Hermione pondered what to do with him. She couldn't begin to guess what had happened, but she trusted him. That's why she had specifically requested for him to fill the position under her. It didn't seem right to just leave him there after everything.

Before she could make up her mind, another howl echoed through the hall, and Daniels ceased his struggling long enough to answer it. There was a snuffing in response, far too close for comfort. It wouldn't be long before the second werewolf discovered them.

"We have to go. Now," Malfoy said, tapping the tip of his cane against his shoe impatiently. It was a nice trick, Hermione thought as she examined him, the way he learned to mask his emotions. Even so, he couldn't hide the way his knuckles were whitening as they wrapped around the snake on the top of his cane or the perspiration that was forming around the edge of his face.

"We can't just _leave_. These are people, and they need our help." Hermione motioned toward Daniels, who had started whimpering softly as he squirmed.

"No, right now they're wolves, and they don't want your help. They want to eat you. Where's the closest Floo?"

"End of the hall and to the right. You're free to go, but I won't be joining you."

"What exactly do you imagine you'll achieve here? Unless you've developed a cure for lyncathropy, you can't help them tonight."

Hermione chewed the inside of her lip. As much as she hated to admit it, he was right. The best thing she could do was fire off a Patronus to Harry and have him gather the Aurors to round up the wolves and retake the Ministry. Besides, there was some other thought niggling at the back of her mind, something that twisted her stomach into knots just at the possibility.

"Fine, let's go."

She tucked her wand back into her robes and started down the hall in front of him. The ropes would wear off Daniels eventually, if his fellow werewolves didn't get to him first and help him out. At the very least, she didn't imagine they would harm each other—wolves had a pack mentality.

They hadn't made it very far when a large, white wolf rounded the corner just in front of them, and Hermione froze in her tracks. He easily dwarfed the other werewolves she had seen in her life, and as if that wasn't bad enough, he had several other wolves on his heels.

The moment their eyes met—her soft brown with his icy white-blue—he began to growl—a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down her spine.

"This way," Malfoy whispered, pushing her through the nearest doorway. He slammed the door shut and warded. The wood splintered and creaked as claws tore into the other side of it.

So Floo was out. They were quickly running out of options.

Malfoy studied her face quietly for a minute before asking, "A Sickle for your thoughts?"

"The last time the Ministry fell, what was the next target?"

She watched understanding dawn in his cold eyes, and then the fear set in. His son was in Rose's year, so he knew what was at stake.

"We have to go to Hogwarts," Hermione said as she hooked her arm in his. Even though it felt wrong, it was the easiest way to Apparate without getting separated. Besides, if she was completely honest, there was some part of her that was glad she wasn't alone—even if that meant her only company was Malfoy.

As the room spun out of focus, all she could think was things weren't supposed to end like this. This wasn't the happily ever after she was promised.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** I apologize if anyone's read this previously. It was originally written for round 13 of QLFC and dedicated to Shane (Nightmare Prince), who wanted some Dramione action. I fell in love with the plot so much, though, that I decided to expand it, and this just didn't quite fit at the beginning anymore. So I've rewritten it as part of the larger plot.

 **Prompts:**

(restriction) Cannot use the word "has"

This chapter takes us from chapter 1 right up to the main focus of your story.


	4. A Knight in the Forest

****Chapter 4****

 ** **A Knight in the Forest****

 _ _"A hero can be anyone. Even a man doing something as simple and reassuring as putting a coat around a young boy's shoulders to let him know that the world hadn't ended."__

 _ _~ The Dark Knight__

 ** **[October 20, 2021]****

 ** **[present day]****

They jerked to a stop, kicking up a flurry of dead leaves as they landed. The full moon was perched on the tree tops, taunting them. Hermione shuddered to think how many people were realizing what they were for the first time. Who would do such a thing? All those people...

"The Forbidden Forest?" Malfoy asked. She glanced sideways at him. Light and dark were locked in a tug-of-war match along the ridges of his face as the moonlight played across his frown. "You can't be serious. I mean, you'd have to be __mad__ to even consider going in there at night."

"You sound scared," Hermione said, grinning inwardly as she slipped her wand out of her robe. As much as she enjoyed seeing him squirm, this truly __was__ serious business, and the risks were real. Even during the best of times, the Forbidden Forest wasn't something to take lightly.

"Don't be ridiculous. I just happen to have enough sense to realize this is a bad idea."

"Even if that were true, it isn't like we have much of a choice. I mean, think about it. If you were a werewolf and wanted to get to Hogwarts, how would you do it? You can't swim across the Black Lake. Hogsmeade has too many people; you wouldn't stand a chance."

Hermione paused as she summoned her Patronus and whispered a message into its ear. If she could get to Harry, he would know how to handle his part. Gather the Aurors, inform Ron, send a message out on the DA galleons, whatever it took. She had faith in his abilities. Of course she did, after all they'd been through. So why was there still all this doubt gnawing away at her insides?

"So that leaves the Forbidden Forest," she continued. "No one to stop you in there, and werewolves don't bother animals. They seek out humans."

Hermione sent the otter out into the night, and it snaked through the trees like a stray sliver of moonlight until it finally disappeared into the distance. When she turned back to Malfoy, he had his cane raised, and his eyebrows were knitted like he was focusing on something.

"What are you doing?" she asked, crossing her arms.

"I'm assuming you've sent your ferret off to find Potter—"

"It's an otter."

"Whatever."

"I'd think you, of all people, would know the difference between the two."

"Regardless, I'll send word to Minerva so she can gather the students and raise the defenses at Hogwarts."

"Minerva?"

It was awkward enough addressing her former professor as an equal, but hearing Malfoy say it was worse yet.

"Yes, Minerva. Adults address their peers by their forenames, generally, do they not? __Some__ of us have grown up, Mrs. Weasley."

Hermione had to stifle the urge to correct him—Granger-Weasley, thank you very much—as a warmth flared across her cheeks. Maybe she was being petty, but regardless of how many years had passed, she wasn't ready to simply forgive and forget. Maybe she'd never get there, what with a constant reminder of his betrayal permanently branded on her arm.

Silver wisps bled from Malfoy's cane, weaving themselves together into a bushy-tailed fox that sat at attention before its master. It wriggled its tail as Malfoy relayed the information to it. Of all the things, why did it have to be something so cute? The absurdity of it almost made her laugh, but she caught herself in light of the situation. This wasn't exactly a laughing matter.

"So, what's your plan?" Malfoy glanced in her direction, his eyes almost clear in the moonlight.

"We walk. If we're lucky, we'll come across something that'll give us a better idea of what's really going on in the forest and where to look."

With a deep breath, she took the first step into the trees. Dead leaves crunched underfoot, and the full moon disappeared from view. On the one hand, it was a relief, if not for the inescapable darkness beneath the canopy. It would take all night just to make it to the other side at the very least, but if there was something in the woods, she was sure they could flush it out.

" _ _Lumos__ ," Malfoy whispered, and a soft glow washed over them.

Hermione shielded her eyes, blinking hard against the harsh light. A little warning would have been nice. She glared at Malfoy through her fingers.

"What?" He shrugged, dimming the light slightly and holding it in front of them. "Let's not pretend. Even now, your spell-work is still better than mine. But I can do this much, at least."

If he was able to admit that much, well, it was a start. That freed her wand up in case something came up. Hermione pushed her way deeper into the woods. The wand-light scattered shapes and shadows all around them, chasing away the occasional small creature hidden in the underbrush.

They walked on in silence for Merlin knew how long. Each rustle made her start, and her heart throbbed in her ears. Regardless of how much she tried to quell her nerves, there was no escaping that clammy sweat of uncertainty that slicked her palms and clung to her clothes, made worse by the dropping temperature. Each breath was crystallized in the frigid night air like an outward representation of her entire body. Damn, she was cold. At this rate, they'd discover ice caps in her blood by morning.

Hermione jumped as something coarse and heavy wrapped around her shoulders, whirling around with her wand at the ready.

"Relax," Malfoy said as he finished pulling the wool outer robe into place around her and fastened the dragon clasp at the top. "You looked cold."

A coat. It was just a coat. She was letting her nerves get the best of her, something she couldn't afford to do. __Relax, Hermione. Just breathe.__

A deep inhale filled her senses with a heavy, musky odor that she realized was Malfoy's cologne. Not only was his robe far too big for her, but it smelled like him, too—a fact she wasn't thrilled about. Even more disturbing, she had to admit that it wasn't an unpleasant smell. In any case, it was better than freezing to death, and whether she liked it or not—she didn't—they had to work together, which meant being civil. She could manage that, if only for a night.

Hermione scrambled up a steep slope and paused at the top to wait for Malfoy to catch up. He had been mostly silent thus far, seemingly content to maintain a dome of light around them, but she had to wonder what he thought of the situation. She wasn't exactly his favorite person in the world, either, but if he was bothered by it, he hid it well.

"Why are you helping me?" she finally asked as he crested the hill. Sure, his son was at Hogwarts, and she could understand his motivations as a parent. Regardless of the differences between them, that was one thing she had no doubt of. But still, there were so many other ways he could have accomplished it rather than plunging headlong into the Forbidden Forest. He hadn't _needed_ to follow her, so why do it?

Malfoy took a moment doubled over, hands on his knees, as he caught his breath. He was still breathing heavily as he answered, "Can't a gentleman just be chivalrous?"

"Yeah, you're a real Prince Charming," Hermione grumbled, shaking her head as she returned to picking her way through the forest. He was being evasive, unsurprisingly, when she had asked a serious question. Some things never changed.

"I'm not sure who or what a 'Prince Charming' is," Malfoy said as he followed, the light bouncing in time with his steps, "but, by and large, the title of prince is an altogether useless one. You take on far too much responsibility, and regardless of what you do, you'll never please your subjects. You only really stand a chance of gaining their approval posthumously, so what's the point?"

Malfoy paused to swat at some spider webs, making a face as he became tangled in them.

"I'd much rather be something like a lord or nobleman. Hell, even a knight would be better."

Hermione shook her head as she pushed on through the foliage. The idea of Sir Malfoy the Knight was ridiculous, but that wasn't what made her smile, though she was careful to hide it just the same.

There was a certain little boy who would have agreed with Malfoy's sentiment, and with every ounce of her being, she hoped he was currently safe in the Gryffindor dorms.

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** _ **[September 1, 2017]**_**

 ** _ **[4 years ago]**_**

" _ _Are you__ sure __you've got everything?" Hermione licked her thumb and, much to her daughter's dismay, attempted to smooth some fly-aways back into place. It was no use. Rose's hair was every bit as hopeless as hers had been at that age.__

" _ _Yes, Mum. We've been over this a hundred times," Rose whined.__

" _ _Relax, 'Mione." Ron snaked his arm around her waist and leaned in to whisper in her ear. "She's ready, even if you aren't."__

 _ _She knew she was being silly. Of course she was. But Rose was her__ baby _ _, and everything had happened so fast that she was still left trying to figure out where the last eleven years had gone.__

" _ _Remember, if you need us for anything, you can send an owl."__

" _ _I know, Mum."__

" _ _And if you get into trouble, go straight to Headmistress McGonagall. She's there to help."__

" _ _I__ know _ _, Mum."__

" _ _Of course you do, sweetie."__

 _ _Hermione paused to study Rose. She really was ready and thought herself every bit as grown up as Hermione had on her trip to Hogwarts. Young Hermione had no clue, and neither would Rose, but that was something she had to learn on her own.__

" _ _You're going to love it so much there," Hermione said, pulling Rose into one final hug and silently praying that their first years were nothing alike. She didn't think her heart could handle it, and Merlin knew how her parents had managed. Naivety probably played a large part, and that was something she didn't have the luxury of.__

 _ _When she finally peeled herself off Rose, Ron scooped her into a big hug and planted a kiss on the top of her head.__

" _ _Have fun. I'll miss you, princess," he said with one last squeeze.__

" _ _I'll miss you, too, Daddy," she said into his robes before letting go.__

" _ _Well,__ I _ _won't miss you,__ Princess _ _," Hugo said. "I'm just glad there'll be a bit more room in the house now."__

" _ _If I'm a princess, that makes you a prince, you know." Rose grinned. They all knew how much Hugo loved to taunt her about Ron's pet name and how he hated having it turned around on him. It was normal sibling stuff, Ron assured her, and he would know, she supposed.__

" _ _What? No way!" Hugo looked mortified, and it was all Hermione could do to keep from laughing. "I don't wanna be a prince."__

" _ _What's wrong with being a prince?" Hermione asked, earning a sharp look as she smoothed his hair.__

" _ _They're stupid. All they do is go around rescuing princesses. What would I wanna do that for? There's already too many girls around our house." He shot her an apologetic grin as he added, "Er, no offense, Mum."__

" _ _What's so great about knights?" Rose wrinkled her nose at her little brother and shifted her bag to the other shoulder.__

" _ _Merlin had 'em, didn't he? They rescue people and stuff, and they go on all sorts of adventures. Who__ wouldn't _ _want to be a knight?"__

 _ _The train whistled a final warning, and their goodbyes were rushed. Still, Hermione smiled through it all, even though she wanted to cry. Her children were growing up. Not just that, as if that wasn't bad enough, they were developing their own very distinct personalities, so unlike hers and Ron's. But she couldn't have been prouder of her princess and her knight.__

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** **[October 20, 2021]****

 ** **[present day]****

Hermione brushed away her thoughts of Hugo. Now wasn't the time. Minerva was an excellent headmistress, and the professors at Hogwarts were top-notch, every last one of them, so she just had to trust in their abilities.

She stopped to get her bearings. A couple of hours had passed at least and no signs of werewolves, but she wasn't convinced. An eerie silence had settled over the forest, like its inhabitants were holding their breaths and anticipating ruin. They hadn't passed many animals. Even at night, the forest should be teeming with life. Something was still wrong.

Her attention was pulled from her musings as Malfoy rattled off a string of curses behind her.

"Why are there so many bloody spider webs?" he asked as he picked them off his robe.

Alarms went off in her mind. There was something important that she had overlooked, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it. Why __were__ there so many spider webs here? Spiders webs...in the Forbidden Forest...

"Acromantulas!" Hermione whispered as she snapped her fingers proudly. The pride was fleeting as the implications dawned on her. "We need to go. Quickly."

The overcoat was several inches too long for her, so she hiked it up to keep from catching on something as she ran. Now if only she'd had the forethought to wear reasonable shoes.

"Wha—" was all Malfoy was able to get out before he was forced to either scurry after her or be left behind.

The light from his wand bounced between the trees as they ran, carelessly throwing shadows around them. Her paranoia was in full swing again. Every movement made her jump; every sound gave her pause.

Was there something in the trees just ahead? Hermione was sure it wasn't just her imagination this time. There was __definitely__ something slinking between the shadows. She tightened her grip on her wand and shallowed her breathing so she could hear better.

"Dim your wand," she hissed over her shoulder.

The light flickered in response and then went out, but not before she'd caught a glimpse of a two-foot tall spider darting out of the trees in front of her.

" _ _Lumos maxima,__ " Hermione said, flinging the pulsing white ball over their heads to light the area. She almost wished she hadn't. While she didn't necessarily share Ron's phobia, she had to admit that watching a swarm of acromantulas scurrying towards them knotted her nerves all to hell, too.

" _ _Arania exumai__ ," Hermione said, aiming her wand at the closest one. It, along with several that were close behind, went catapulting off into the woods. It was a temporary fix, at best, and they'd be back before long.

" _ _Incendio__."

A ball of fire whizzed past, so close that she could feel the heat radiating off it, and a spider to her left went up in flames. It emitted a high-pitched shriek as it burned, finally stopping once it had withered into little more than a charred mess. She nearly choked on the stench of burnt spider—so heavy that it felt like it was clogging her lungs. The first one hadn't even gone out yet and two more were burning, their screams both grating and nauseating. But there wasn't even time to think about that. Regardless of how many fell, more were coming.

"Watch your fires or we'll spend more time stopping the forest from burning than doing anything else. Everything's so dry, it's basically kindling at this point," Hermione called over her shoulder. Malfoy had closed the gap between them, and they were nearly back-to-back now. It wasn't a position she ever imagined being in, and she hated to admit it, but it was oddly comforting having him there. At least he wasn't huddled in a corner like Ron would have been.

"So, what's your plan?" Malfoy asked, firing off a few spells in rapid succession as he turned to listen.

"What?"

"That's how it works, isn't it? Someone gets in trouble, you come up with a way to get them out of it. Ring a bell?" Malfoy paused to hurl a spell into a group of acromantulas. In a flash of white, it exploded, showering them with dead leaves, splintered branches, and things that Hermione really didn't want to think about just then. "We seem to be in desperate need of a plan. Sooner rather than later would be nice."

A plan. Sure. Easier said than done. Killing all the acromantulas was impossible. What they needed was a way to scare them away rather than harming them all. Where was a basilisk when you needed one? Acromantulas were sentient to some extent, so even if they couldn't be reasoned with, they would run if they thought their lives were threatened. All they had to do was give them a compelling enough reason.

"We need a big display of power, enough to force them to decide we're not worth the risk."

"That I can do," Malfoy said, and Hermione grunted in surprise as he bumped into her, pressing his back firmly against hers. "Stay close. That way, you won't get in my way."

"Excuse me?"

Her objections were drowned out by the roar of fire erupting from his wand. It crackled and hissed, twisting on itself like an Ouroboros as it encircled them. Even above the sizzle of the flames, she could hear the clacking of pincers in anticipation, but they were halted, at least temporarily, by a wall of fire.

"You idiot, you're going to burn down the whole forest at this rate!" Hermione shouted over the roar. Nearby boughs had already succumbed to the flame's appetite, red and yellow tongues spreading along the brittle leaves.

"To hell with the forest. The trees will recover. Unfortunately, I can't say the same thing about us if one of those things gets a hold of us."

He was right, even if it was a bitter pill to swallow, but still. There were plenty of other creatures living in the forest that would be affected by this. Best to end it quickly so they could put out the fires and be on their way.

 _ _Bombarda.__ Hermione cast the non-verbal spell in succession, unleashing a series of explosions in a circle around them.

Malfoy released the lasso that enclosed them, but a wall of fire remained, fed by the forest itself. The clacking had disappeared, and all that remained were the few stragglers that were slowly retreating from the flames.

It had worked. As crazy—stupid may have been more accurate, but she was feeling generous—as it was, fire was a deterrent for most wild animals.

Malfoy was breathing heavily as he turned to face her, neatly slicked hair now wild and falling around his face. Her _lumos_ had already expired, but even in the firelight, his face glowed with sweat and his very expensive-looking robes were soiled beyond repair.

He looked ridiculous. Not that she could see herself, but Hermione was sure she did, as well. Hell, the whole situation was ridiculous. In spite of everything, as she trained her wand on the first of the flames and cast a non-verbal __aqua eructo__ , she started laughing at the absurdity of the situation. There was no stopping it. The last place Hermione ever expected to be was in the Forbidden Forest at night chasing werewolves and fighting acromantulas with Draco Malfoy, of all people, covered in soot and spider guts.

Malfoy knitted his brows and looked at her as if she was crazy. Who knew, maybe she was. Even Hermione was having her doubts. But as he put out the fire on his side, he shook his head and chuckled.

"I doubt anyone's going to believe this. Not any of it."

"Would you?"

"Not even slightly."

Malfoy winced as he inspected his arm. Part of his robe was scorched and frayed, and Hermione guessed the skin underneath was as well, but he simply shifted his robe to cover it and looked off into the forest. The moon didn't reach beneath the canopy, so they were alone with the darkness. All that really meant was that they couldn't see what other threats lurked ahead of them.

"We should get going. There's definitely something here, and I'd much rather find it before it finds us," Malfoy said as he re-lit his wand, bathing them in a dim light.

So he'd noticed it, too, then. Whatever it was, something was putting the creatures in the Forbidden Forest on edge.

"Truce?" Hermione blurted out before her better judgment could stop her.

Malfoy stopped several feet away and turned halfway around at her outburst.

"What?"

"I don't trust you." Hermione held up a hand as Malfoy opened his mouth to interrupt. "Let me finish. If we're going to get through this, we __have__ to work together. There's no way around it. But if you give me any reason at all to doubt you, so help me, I'll—"

"Deck me? That's quite the threat. It's been a long time, but I haven't forgotten. You've got quite a nasty right hook." Malfoy held his hands up in surrender as he shook his head. "I'm not asking you to trust me, but I have just as much at stake as you do."

Hermione understood what he meant. It didn't matter what happened to them, so long as Hogwarts didn't fall.

"So we're in agreement, then, Draco? A truce?" Hermione held out her hand, and Malfoy looked at it quietly for a minute.

"Draco, hm?"

"Just for tonight."

"Truce, then, Mrs. Granger-Weasley." He offered a small half-smile as they shook hands.

Her name...he'd finally gotten it right. It was about time. For years, they had been playing the same passive-aggressive game any time their paths crossed due to her work in the Ministry. Always a polite front with a small slight thrown in, a noticeable bite to the words. Maybe it was her fault, maybe it was his. However it started, maybe it was time to lay that childishness to rest once and for all.

Hiding her small smile, she turned towards Hogwarts and led the way deeper into the forest.

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** _ **[2015]**_**

 ** _ **[6 years ago]**_**

 _ _How could she be so stupid? Stupid, stupid, stupid.__

 _ _Hermione groaned as she surveyed the veritable mountain of work that had piled on her desk, threatening to topple at any minute. Four days. That was how long she'd been in her new post as Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Four long, sleep-deprived, nerve-wracking, disaster-infested days.__

 _ _It was a dream job, for sure, and at 35, receiving such an honor was almost unheard of. Still, as she looked around her office, Hermione couldn't help thinking maybe she was in a bit over her head. It was much more responsibility than her previous job, and she couldn't get a moment in edgewise after solving everyone else's crises to attend to her own backlog of work.__

 _ _Well, she had a second now, at least. But where to even begin? Before she could decide, someone rapped on the door, and she gave a halfhearted, "Come in."__

 _ _The man who stepped into her office was just about the last person she expected and quite possibly the last man she wanted to see.__

" _ _Mrs. Granger-Weasley." He inclined his platinum-blond head ever so slightly in greeting, switching his cane to his other hand as he pulled the door closed behind him. "Or should I say Deputy Head Granger-Weasley? I hope I'm not imposing."__

" _ _I'm very busy, Mr. Malfoy." Hermione shuffled the papers on her desk as if she was prioritizing them. Truth be told, she had no organizational system whatsoever and no idea what half the papers were for at this point, but she had no intention of letting on that the job was overwhelming. As far as Malfoy was concerned, she was born for this role, and she would give him no reason to think otherwise.__

" _ _Of course. I'll be quick, then. I merely wanted to congratulate you on your new position and offer my assistance should you ever need it. As I'm sure you're aware, I have quite a few connections in the Wizarding world—both in Britain and in Europe in general—not to mention my knowledge of the Dark Arts and alchemy. Of course, there's also all the boards I sit on and the, shall we say, political clout that I still carry in my own right. It is all at your disposal, should you ever find need for it."__

" _ _With all due respect, it'll be a cold day in hell when I let you assist in a case."__

 _ _Malfoy didn't look the least bit surprised at the response. All he did was incline his head once again in recognition and reach for the knob.__

" _ _Be that as it may, the offer still stands, regardless of if you ever make use of it or not," he said as he pulled the door open.__

" _ _Tell me, you had to know what my response would be. So why bother coming here?"__

 _ _There was something different about his expression, though it remained nonchalant, as he glanced back over his shoulder.__

" _ _It's because I'm a parent, and like all parents—like you, even—I want what's best for my son. What I don't want is for my mistakes to become his burden to carry. So I came to show my support for the Ministry, despite knowing you wouldn't accept it—not for your sake, but for my own. Good day,__ _Mrs. Weasley_ _ _."__

 _" _Granger-Weasley, if you don't mind."__

 _ _He flashed a coy smirk, and Hermione did her best to make it look like he hadn't ruffled her feathers. Truth was that he did, every time, and he was infuriatingly good at it.__

 _ _The door clicked shut as he stepped back out into the hallway. Hermione didn't feel quite so exhausted as she looked at the stack of papers in front of her. There was a reason she had taken the position in the first place, and she was suddenly reminded what it was.__

 _ _At the time, she hadn't believed his motives, not even for a second, but she was beginning to.__

* * *

 ** **Author's Note:**** So this chapter starts with a pun and a Batman quote. What else can I say? XD Also, every time I read the quote in the beginning, all I can think is, "I'm Batman," from HISHE (How It Should Have Ended). I know everyone may not like Draco's Patronus being a fox (or potentially that he can cast one). I reason that, as old as he is here, he's old enough to have light moments in his life (particularly involving his son and wife) and has a fierce desire to protect them both. Foxes are known for manipulation, retreating from danger, but also fiercely loyal to the small families they may form. The fox also ends up villainized in a lot of lore. In short, I just thought it fit nicely. :) No, it wasn't just because foxes are cute and I wanted Draco to have a cute patronus at all (though, I did find it amusing that, after going through all the possibilities I had jotted down that I thought fit his personality, the one I narrowed it down to was adorable).

 ** **Prompts:****

\- (word/location) Hogwarts

\- This chapter represents hope or something else equally as positive.


	5. Even The Stars Fall

****Chapter 5****

 ** **Even The Stars Fall****

" _ _Sometimes we are like stars; we fall to make someone's wish come true."__

 _ _~ Unknown__

 _ _.__

 ** _ **[September 1, 2017]**_**

 ** _ **[4 years ago]**_**

" _ _Malfoy, Scorpius."__

 _ _A silence settled over the Great Hall, followed by an insidious whisper that snaked its way through the rows of seated students. The myriad of disapproving glares were not lost on the platinum-blond, who stepped forward in response to his name being called.__

 _ _For eleven years, he had been groomed for the day he would walk unaccompanied into the Wizarding world. Father had always been clear: through no fault of his own, he would be hated. Mother reaffirmed it, in subtler ways. Even if the other students didn't understand why, even if their parents sheltered them from the past, that hate was doomed to be inherited. Regardless of what he did, Scorpius was still, first and foremost, a Malfoy.__

 _ _So he walked to the stool, head held high amid the flurry of whispered rumors, bowing it only momentarily to accept the Sorting Hat. Even though he had been expecting it, he still started when it began to move, and a gentle laughter echoed through his mind.__

Ah, another Malfoy. I suppose I know exactly where to put you. But...wait. What's this? Hm.

 _ _The hat fell silent for a few seconds as it sifted through his mind—a disturbing thought, at best.__

I see an abundance of courage here, wanting to face a world you think is against you. And loyalty. O-ho.

 _ _The hat stopped to laugh again, a bit of a dusty, wheezy sound.__

You're loyal to the Malfoy name and your family, even if it brings you trouble. I think you'd do quite well in...

Slytherin, __Scorpius interrupted, focusing on that with all his might. It just had to be. Nothing else would do. Malfoys were__ always _ _Slytherins, and he was a Malfoy, after all. His House wouldn't change that, nor would it change who he was, and he believed, more than anything, that some things were worth inheriting.__

Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You'd make a fine Gryffindor. Oh yes, very nice, indeed.

Not Gryffindor. Definitely not Gryffindor. Slytherin. I'm sure of it.

Quite adamant, I see. Well, there's nothing for it. I suppose you'll have to be in...

" _ _SLYTHERIN!"__

 _ _Scorpius hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath, and he let it out in a relieved sigh. That was close. Too close. He hopped off the stool to a roar of applause from the Slytherin table—many whom he recognized already—and halfhearted claps from the rest of the hall. That suited him just fine.__

 _ _He found a seat towards the middle of the table where there was a large gap for potential first years and positioned himself so he wouldn't have to talk to a lot of people. Despite the facade he worked so hard to maintain, his stomach was tied in knots, and his appetite had apparently fled with any desire for socialization he might have had.__

" _ _Potter, Albus."__

 _ _The Gryffindor table exploded into obnoxious cheering and catcalls, and the scrawny, raven-haired boy that stepped forward looked mortified by the outburst. He took hesitant, faltering steps all the way up to the stool and visibly started once the hat was placed on his head.__

 _ _Everyone waited for a minute, and then two, and then three. The hat sure seemed to be taking its time with this one. What was so special about him, in particular? Was it just that he was a Potter, or, like Scorpius, was there more to him than just his surname?__

 _ _After several more minutes ticked by, the hat finally called out, "SLYTHERIN."__

 _ _At first there was no response at all from the students, and Headmistress McGonagall had to help the weak-kneed boy off the stool, gesturing him towards his new House. He went reluctantly, his face now several shades paler than it had been before his Sorting. There was a scattering of confused applause as he joined the Slytherins, collapsing into the seat beside Scorpius and burying his head in his hands. So much for not having to socialize.__

" _ _Rough day?" Scorpius finally asked, inwardly kicking himself immediately for it. What kind of opening line was that? One would think he'd never had any sort of training on social etiquette. At least he hadn't mentioned the weather, though he wasn't about to rule it out just in case it came to that.__

" _ _This is, hands down, the worst day of my life," was the muffled response.__

" _ _Is Slytherin really that bad?"__

" _ _I'm supposed to be in__ Gryffindor. __Everyone's always been in Gryffindor. It's not that Slytherin isn't...I mean, I really don't mind, but...Well, what will everyone__ _think_ _ _? James is going to kill me.__ _ _" The boy released a death-groan, and Scorpius considered letting him suffer in peace. He would have felt the same had he landed in Gryffindor, so he could hardly blame him.__

" _ _You know," Scorpius said, resting his chin on his hand as he spoke, "the last Headmaster, before Headmistress McGonagall I mean, was a Slytherin. He put himself in a dangerous position to gain information that was used to win the war, which ultimately cost him his life. Father says he was a great man...even though he was a Slytherin."__

 _ _Green eyes peeked out at him suspiciously through the crook of his elbow. After a brief pause, the boy admitted, "My father said something like that, too."__

" _ _Well, if they both said so, then I suppose it must be true, right?"__

 _ _The boy tilted his head so more of his face was exposed, and a light suddenly danced in his eyes. "Did you know that Merlin himself was a Slytherin? And Damocles, inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion, was a Slytherin, too."__

 _ _Scorpius was vaguely aware that the Sorting was still going on in the background, but he'd already tuned it out. He wasn't even slightly interested in it, but the Potter boy...well, something about him was intriguing, at least. There was no doubt about it; the boy's Sorting was no accident, not with the way he talked about his new House.__

" _ _I'm Scorpius, by the way."__

 _ _Tentatively, the boy lifted his head out of his arms.__

" _ _Albus," he said simply.__

 _ _Scorpius turned back to the Sorting just in time to hear the last person—Rose something or other, having missed her surname—get sorted into Ravenclaw. She seemed pleased with herself, a smug smile on her lips, and he decided he didn't like her. He couldn't place exactly what it was about her—whether it was her unruly hair, or the bounce in her step, or the way she unabashedly introduced herself to everyone the moment she sat down—but she seemed obnoxious. That was one thing he simply couldn't stand, and he intended to spend the next seven years doing his utmost to avoid having to deal with her.__

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** **[October 20, 2021]****

 ** **[present day]****

Scorpius hunched his shoulders against the frigid wind that was always nipping around the Astronomy Tower this time of year. Everything was quiet, and he almost preferred it that way. Just him and the stars overhead, all laughing without making a sound.

The door slammed open, and the _BANG!_ ricocheted around the platform. So much for peace and quiet. Scorpius turned to regard the the green-eyed interruption as he leaned against the railing and crossed his arms.

"I figured you'd be up here," Albus said as he closed the door—gently this time—and slumped onto the ground with his back against it. His breathing was heavy as he slung an arm over his knee and sweat slicked his hair.

"Taking up running as a hobby, are we?" Scorpius said with a grin.

"Not hardly. Just came from the weekly __Potter__ visit with Hagrid." Albus scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"James skip out on you again?"

" _ _Of course__. And Hagrid made me eat twice as many biscuits to make up for it. Do you know what's __in__ those biscuits? I doubt it. I don't even think Hagrid knows." Albus paused from his rant and studied Scorpius for a minute before asking, "What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Nothing. Just...visiting."

Albus scrunched his face up in confusion, tilting his head slightly as he studied Scorpius. It was futile. They were friends, but they would never fully understand each other, and Scorpius had come to realize that that was just fine.

"Ah, I got it!" Albus snapped his fingers and pointed accusingly.

Scorpius frowned. What was he on about? Like all the Potters, he had a knack for being dramatic and showy.

"You're up here hiding from Hugo, aren't you?"

"What? Don't be ridiculous."

While it was true that he avoided Hugo when he could—having decided it was best not to stir up trouble with his girlfriend's brother, who clearly hated him—one could hardly call it _hiding_. Using discretion, perhaps. Avoiding trouble, even. But Scorpius Malfoy would never _hide_ , especially not from a Weasley who was several years his junior.

"You've gotta admit, the idea of a Malfoy hiding from a Weasley is priceless." Albus laughed so hard at the thought that he had to take a few seconds to catch his breath afterward.

"As if."

Scorpius leaned over the railing as he scrutinized the sky, tracing all the familiar constellations. Albus wouldn't understand. It was a Black thing, something that had been imparted to him during late nights of stargazing with his grandmother. They would stretch out on the grass, and she would trace her wand over the constellations. Each name left her lips as little more than a sacred whisper. As he grew, he learned they were more than just stars for her; they were family. Silently, stoically, she grieved them every night when the sun set, a willing martyr who would carry their burdens to the grave with her.

There was only one person Scorpius had ever shared his story with. It was the last person he ever expected, and it had never been his intention. After all, he was so far above her that she was the Earth and he a star. But even stars fall sometimes, and some things were worth falling for.

She was the only one who understood what he saw when he visited the Astronomy Tower at night.

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** **[December 12, 2017]****

 ** **[4 years ago]****

 _ _Scorpius leaned over the railing of the Astronomy Tower. Even though the winter wind wore his cheeks raw, he craned his neck out for a better view of the sky. He picked out the fourteen familiar stars that twinkled down on him. Draco. "Wherever you are, Scorpius, I'll be watching," his father had said on Platform Nine and Three Quarters. In another week, students would be piling back onto the Hogwarts Express, and Scorpius wouldn't be among them, but that didn't mean he'd be spending his first Christmas at Hogwarts alone, either.__

 _ _With a sigh, he glanced at the door to the tower. She was late. Again. Maybe she wasn't even coming today. Maybe that was for the best. Why did he even care anyway? She was an insufferable know-it-all who seemed hellbent on destroying his peace and quiet.__

 _ _The Astronomy Tower had been a haven for Scorpius for exactly a week after school started, when he was mortified to have a bushy-haired redhead slam through the door, slightly flushed and out of breath.__

" _ _Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't—I mean, I figured maybe no one would be here," she stuttered, clutching a pile of books to her chest.__

" _ _It's fine. I was just leaving," Scorpius said, making an effort to keep his emotions out of his tone. Neither of it was true. She was a bloody nuisance, and he enjoyed his time alone in the tower, when he could get it, but he couldn't__ say _ _that.__

" _ _Wait." She reached out for him briefly before deciding against it and wrapping her hand around her books. "I mean, well, I was looking for a quiet place to study. So, you know, you don't have to leave if you don't want to. I'll just sit in a corner here, and I won't make a sound. Promise."__

 _ _He didn't buy it, not even for a second. If she had the ability to mind her own business, she had yet to show it, or that was the conclusion he'd come to from watching her from across the room.__

" _ _Isn't that what the library's for?"__

" _ _I suppose so. It's just..."__

 _ _Even though she never finished her thought, Scorpius had understood. There wasn't a Witch or Wizard in Hogwarts that wasn't Muggleborn who didn't know her parents' names. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as Albus had it; he was the son of none other than Harry Potter, after all, and the brother of James Potter, who had already made a name for himself at Hogwarts. Still, the recognition was nearly inescapable.__

" _ _Fine." Scorpius sighed, creating a barely visible white puff in front of his face. "I'll stay. As long as you're quiet."__

 _ _And she was. Mostly. It had started with harmless questions here and there as the weeks passed. Things like how were classes going, did he have any plans for Halloween, how was he liking Hogwarts so far.__

 _ _She would show up every Tuesday and Thursday at nine o'clock to study for an hour before curfew, so Scorpius always made sure to be there, too. He wasn't sure why. He still wasn't sure why, three months after their first meeting. Yet, there he was, suffering through the cold. And she was late.__

 _ _The door finally flew open, and a red-faced, breathless Rose stepped through, closing it again behind her.__

" _ _I'm sorry I'm late."__

" _ _This isn't class, you know." Scorpius crossed his arms and did his best to hide his annoyance. "It's not like you have to be here at a certain time."__

" _ _Oh, I know, I just meant...Well, anyway, I'm here now."__

 _ _She took a seat with her back pressed against the wall, burying herself in her book immediately, so Scorpius turned back to the stars. In two weeks' time, it would be Christmas. Would she expect something? They weren't exactly friends. Barely acquaintances. Still, Albus had made a big show of expecting to exchange presents, and they had known each other the same amount of time.__

 _ _If Rose was expecting the same and he didn't live up to her expectation, she'd never let him live it down. Three months was all it took to assure him that he didn't want to be on her bad side. Merlin, girls were confusing.__

 _ _Scorpius started as something brushed against his elbow. He dismissed the thoughts—he'd decide on something later—as he glanced to his right, where Rose was sidling up to the railing beside him. She lifted her eyes to look up at the stars, and for the briefest moment he wondered if what they saw was really all that different. It sure felt like they were worlds apart, but standing underneath all those stars...Well, maybe it wasn't really that far, after all.__

" _ _Oh, look, that's the North Star, Polaris!" Rose leaned over the railing and pointed. "Did you now that Muggle sailors used to mark their direction with that, because it's due north? Mum told me that. Plus, it's one of the brightest stars in the sky. Well, not__ the _ _brightest. That's—"__

" _ _Sirius. The dog star," Scorpius interrupted, glancing toward Canis Major.__

" _ _That's right. But I guess you already know all this stuff, huh? That's why you come up here, isn't it, to look at the stars? So, in that case, maybe it's you who should be doing the talking."__

" _ _Hm?" Scorpius glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. What was it she was on about?__

" _ _Like Scorpius. That's a constellation, right? So where is it?" Rose climbed onto the ledge and leaned over the railing, inspecting the sky, though Scorpius was convinced she wouldn't recognize the constellation even if she found it. Which she wouldn't.__

" _ _You're not going to see it like that, so will you get back down here before you fall out of this bloody tower?"__

" _ _Sorry." Rose hopped back down and rested her elbows on the railing. "I was just trying to find it."__

" _ _Like I told you, you aren't going to see it. It's a summer constellation. Look there." Scorpius traced his finger in the air, connecting seven stars. "That's Orion, the hunter. Legend has it that Orion and Scorpio are eternal adversaries, chasing each other through the night sky. The two never appear at the same time."__

" _ _But who's chasing who?"__

" _ _That's the real question, isn't it?" Scorpius shrugged as he glanced sideways. Her cheeks were red and raw, and snowflakes decorated her unkempt hair. Despite that, she wore the goofiest smile he'd ever seen. But what really intrigued him was the rapture in her eyes as her gaze flitted around the sky.__

" _ _That's fascinating. What about that one? What's that?"__

 _ _Scorpius leaned closer, trying to follow her finger to whichever star she was pointing at.__

" _ _That's Thuban. It used to be the north star, thousands of years ago before Earth's axis shifted. It's one of fourteen stars that make up Draco."__

" _ _Oh! There, that one. What's that?"__

 _ _As they went through the stars one-by-one, Scorpius decided that maybe he'd get her that Christmas present after all.__

 ** **...oOo...****

 ** **[October 20, 2021]****

 ** **[present day]****

Scorpius' eyes found Sirius, and he smiled. Last year, though they'd spent Christmas apart, Rose insisted that if they both went outside at exactly 11:59 on Christmas Eve and looked up at Sirius, up at the same night sky, then it'd feel like they weren't so far apart. Scorpius wasn't sure at the time if he bought that—he still wasn't sold on the idea—but he'd done it just the same, and now the star always reminded him of Rose. Maybe that's what she'd meant after all.

Scorpius started from his thoughts as Albus cleared his throat.

"Hey, while you're staring up there, tell me, you don't think it'll rain tonight, do you?" Albus asked, pulling a snitch out of his pocket and tossing it between his hands.

"How should I know?"

"Well, are there any clouds?"

With a heavy sigh, Scorpius leaned over the railing and scanned the sky.

"No clouds."

"Ah, that's great! Maybe I can squeeze in some flying practice later. First game's Slytherin versus Hufflepuff, and Hugo's no louse. He's been training all summer."

As Scorpius went to pull his head back in, he noticed something shimmering beneath them. It was approaching Hogwarts quickly, running several feet off the ground, but he couldn't quite make it out. He leaned forward and squinted, trying to get a better view. It looked an awful lot like...a fox.

"We've gotta go, Al," Scorpius announced, grabbing the other Slytherin by the arm and yanking him to his feet.

"Ow. What? What is it?"

Albus scrambled to nab the runaway snitch before it flitted off into the night, shoving it roughly back into his robe.

"I don't know. Something's wrong. Come on."

Scorpius dashed into the hall and took the stairs down the Astronomy Tower by twos with Albus on his heels. He shouted a hasty apology to the First Years he nearly took out as he pushed past them entering the Grand Staircase, but there was no time to waste. He had to get to the first floor.

"Have you lost it? What's up with you?" Albus asked as they raced down the stairs. They dodged a chatty group of Hufflepuffs that had congregated on the third-floor landing, Albus going one way and Scorpius going the other.

"That was Father's patronus," Scorpius called over his shoulder, refusing to let up his pace.

"Are you sure? I mean, we were pretty high up."

"I'm sure. I'd know it anywhere."

Scorpius had spent the summer after third year practicing the spell every day. It was important, Father had insisted, just in case. Even though he never elaborated, Scorpius had eagerly taken on the challenge, and by the end he could produce an incorporeal white wisp. It wasn't much, certainly not as incredible as the fox he had seen every day as an example, but Father had been proud of even that.

"You think something's wrong?" Albus asked as the staircase started to shift. They leapt over the edge of the railing down the few feet to the next one before they could be swept off-course.

"There has to be. He wouldn't use it otherwise."

Scorpius hopped the last several steps down to the first-floor landing, and the sound ricocheted up the staircase, earning them glares from several students. None of that mattered in the least bit. He had to find out what was going on. Father had always said if there was an emergency to watch for his patronus. Even if it wasn't coming to him, something had happened, and he had to know.

"This way." Scorpius motioned to Albus, who nodded in understanding. There was only one person in the whole castle who they could trust to do their dirty work, and it wasn't like she had anything better to do.

Scorpius checked the hallway. Once he was confident no one was watching, he cracked the door to the old girls' bathroom and ushered Albus in. With one last glance around, he slipped inside, too, and closed the door behind them.

"I don't think anyone—"

Scorpius stifled a shout as he turned around and found wide eyes staring at him just inches away from his face.

"I knew you'd come back to see me." With an echoing cackle, Myrtle floated into the air and then disappeared into the ground at his feet.

"How many times do I have to tell you __don't do that?__ " Scorpius said as his cheeks flushed. He shot a poisonous glance at Albus, who did his best to save face and at least hide his laughter. He failed miserably, but at least he tried.

Father had told him, back before his first year at Hogwarts, about the ghost that haunted the old girls' bathroom. Asked him to treat her well and visit from time to time. Scorpius still didn't understand their connection, but he visited Myrtle now, at least, for his own reasons. He supposed that once, maybe it had been the same for Father.

"Myrtle, I have a favor to ask," Scorpius said as he regained his composure. "There's a fox patronus that just entered the castle somewhere. I want to know why it's here. Can you find out for me?"

"Oh. You want me to spy?" Myrtle asked as she rose up from the floor, drawing out the last syllable in a pseudo-shriek. "That's not a very nice thing to do, you know."

"I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Myrtle studied him quietly for a few minutes, chewing on the tip of her finger. She'd give in eventually. Of course she would. He'd spent enough time visiting her to know that much by now. He was familiar with the way the old song and dance went.

"Fine, I'll help." Myrtle sidled up closer to him and pretended to rest her head on his shoulder. "But you'll owe me a favor in return." She started cackling as she launched into the air and disappeared through a wall.

"I don't like the sound of that, and I'm not even the one who owes her anything." Albus mussed his hair and grinned at him sympathetically. Scorpius wasn't so concerned. Myrtle was fanatical, perhaps, but she was harmless.

"I guess all we can do now is just wait to see what she finds out." Scorpius sighed as he leaned against one of the sinks and crossed his arms. More than anything, he hated feeling useless. If something was wrong, regardless of what it was, if Father was really in trouble, nothing would stop him from fighting. He wasn't a child in need of protection anymore.

The door squeaked open, and they both turned to see a head peak through tentatively.

"I found you!" Rose said, throwing the door open wide and then slamming it closed behind her.

"Rose? You can't be in here!" Albus shouted, motioning for her to leave.

"What do you mean __I__ can't be in here? This is a __girls'__ bathroom."

"Well, yeah, it used to be, but, you know, this is, like, our hideout now." Albus shot a pleading glance at Scorpius to back him up, but Scorpius simply shrugged and shook his head.

"She has a point, you know." He pushed off from the sink and stopped in front of her, touching her arm lightly. There was something wrong. Rose hid it well, but that wasn't enough to fool him. "Why were you looking for us?"

"Something's happening in the castle. I don't know exactly what, but I followed a patronus down the hall, and it went into the Headmistress' office. A few minutes later, a different patronus emerged and went round to the teachers. They aren't telling us anything at all, but they're gathering all the students in the Great Hall."

"The Great Hall?" Albus frowned, pulling his snitch from his pocket and absentmindedly tossing it between his hands. "Wonder what's going on."

"We'll find out soon enough," Scorpius said. When Rose tilted her head and narrowed her eyebrows at him, he added, "I asked Myrtle to go investigate. She should be back any minute now."

They lapsed into an uneasy silence. Scorpius couldn't even begin to imagine what they were thinking, but he knew his friends well enough to understand they were nervous. Albus kept his hands busy with his snitch. At the very least, Scorpius assumed it gave him a sense of doing something, even if all he was doing was waiting. To his left, Rose fiddled with the fabric of her robe and tapped her foot impatiently. They waited for several minutes in awkward silence before a head finally popped through the wall.

"What did you find out?" Scorpius asked.

"I couldn't hear much. No, no. Poor Myrtle. Nobody wants her around." She released a series of pitiful whines and moans coupled with a few sniffles and sobs. " _ _They__ threw me out!" She shouted the last word, muttering under her breath as she floated in circles. As her eyes fell on Scorpius, she started giggling again and scooted next to him. "Oh, but you want me around, don't you?"

"Were you able to hear anything?"

"You're no fun." Myrtle stuck out her lower lip in a pout, but Scorpius crossed his arms and remained resolute. Now was no time for her silly games. "Fine. They said something about werewolves."

"Werewolves? At Hogwarts? But that's ridiculous." Rose scoffed, and Myrtle scowled at her.

"That's what they said. And they're moving all the students to the Great Hall, just in case."

"Thanks for the information, Myrtle. Can you give us a few minutes? Alone?" Scorpius said, rubbing his chin as he leaned against a sink again. Myrtle moaned and sniffed a few times, but she reluctantly disappeared into her stall and down the toilet to...Well, to wherever she went when she was gone.

Werewolves. Not what he expected. It was unheard of. How was he even supposed to react? He looked over to Rose, who was busy chewing what was left of her fingernails. Well, at least he wasn't alone in being at a loss for what to do.

"So...uh...werewolves, huh?" Albus finally said, mussing his hair as he chewed on his lip. "You don't really think...I mean, they wouldn't actually come to Hogwarts, would they?"

"Tonight __is__ a full moon," Scorpius thought aloud. "But that means they'd transform, and with how warded the school is, there's no way they'd make it past the walls, even if they got on school ground."

"They definitely wouldn't make it into the castle, not with the professors on alert," Rose agreed.

"So...what now?" Albus asked as he shoved the snitch back in his pocket. Rose shrugged, but judging by the fret lines and the way she was chewing her nails, there was something on her mind.

"We should go to the Great Hall. That's where everyone will be, right? Nothing more we can do sitting here in the bathroom, anyway." Scorpius winced as a high-pitched wail came from one of the bathroom stalls. "No offense, Myrtle!"

Rose stuck her head out of the doorway. When she was certain the coast was clear, she motioned for them to follow, and the three crept into the hallway. It was eerily quiet, even for this time of night, when the majority of students were usually in their dorms. Scorpius assumed that most of the castle had already been rounded up, and the professors were likely out scouting for the stragglers.

The halls were completely deserted until they were getting ready to round the final corner to the Grand Staircase. It had been too easy; of course nothing could go so smoothly. Footsteps echoed around the hall from just ahead, fast-paced and growing louder.

"This way," Albus whispered as he grabbed Scorpius by the robes and dragged him behind a suit of armor.

"What—," Scorpius started, but an insistent hiss from his best friend urged him to lower his voice, and he begrudgingly did so. "What are you doing?"

"If Filch catches us, we're done for."

"You don't know it's Filch." Rose peeked her head out from behind the suit, but Albus yanked her back in.

"You don't know that it's not, either. I swear, that man has it out for me, just because he doesn't like James and didn't like Dad, from what I've heard. If he finds us sneaking around when everyone's supposed to be in the Great Hall, I'll have detention for a _month._ "

Scorpius didn't doubt it. The caretaker was old enough to have amassed plenty of slights in his lifetime and not yet old enough to have had the fortune of forgetting them all. Though, then again, he wasn't much of a caretaker, either, at this stage in his career, if one could call it that.

The footsteps stopped just short of their admittedly poor hiding place. That's what he got, Scorpius supposed, for letting Albus choose. Rose must have come to the same conclusion, because she already had her wand drawn. Ready to cast an invisibility spell, no doubt, if need be. Though they were far from perfect, Scorpius had to admit, her spells had saved them in a pinch before.

"Oi. Who's there?"

The voice echoed through the empty hall, and Rose lowered her wand as she smiled. _Uncle Ron,_ Albus mouthed, clearly relieved. That made one of them. Scorpius, on the other hand, would have preferred Filch. Before the boys could react, Rose had already rounded the suit of armor and thrown her arms around her father.

"Rose? Blimey, you're supposed to be in the Great Hall." He hugged her with one arm, keeping his wand up and at the ready, as he planted a light kiss on the top of her head. "S'pose I shouldn't be surprised. Your mum and I weren't great at following the rules, either. And Albus," he added as the boys stepped out from their hiding spot. "Guess I shoulda expected that one, too."

The cold, blue eyes swept over him, and it was all Scorpius could do to remind himself who he was. Normally, the thought of his legacy would be enough to steel his nerves, but it failed him now. If anything, being a Malfoy was the last thing he wanted to be reminded of, given the situation.

Mr. Weasley merely made a face at him, somewhere been a grin and grimace, before turning his attention back to his daughter.

"Listen, get down to the Great Hall, the lot of ya. No, don't argue." Mr. Weasley quieted Rose's objection as soon as she opened her mouth. "They've sent word 'round to the Order. I know you want to help, but leave it to us."

"And Mum?" Rose asked.

"I'm sure Hermione's just fine," Mr. Weasley answered with a lopsided grin, but he had hesitated for a moment too long. Scorpius didn't miss the uncertainty in the statement; Rose wouldn't have, either.

"If there's something wrong with Mum..."

Scorpius knew that tone. Rose pulled it off all too well, leaving the implied threat dangling there at the end.

"You're too old for me to lie to, Rose, and too bloody smart. Hermione decided to investigate the Forbidden Forest, and as soon as I finish these rounds, I'm gonna go find her."

"Promise?"

"Course I do. You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her. But I need you here to look after Hugo. You can do that, right?"

"Mm-hmm." Rose nodded, but she didn't look sure. After all this time, Scorpius understood the way her hands balled into fists just before she hid them from view in her robes. Regardless of how Mr. Weasley wanted to paint it, they were utterly useless. All they could do was sit and wait.

As if he understood the struggle, Mr. Weasley pulled her into a side-hug, squeezing until she grunted under the force. Was that what families were like, all hugs and jokes? The sentiment felt strange to Scorpius. He was reminded, like always, how much of an outsider he was to it all. Not for the first time, he wondered if maybe he and Rose really were too different to make it work after all.

Albus coughed to get their attention, and three sets of eyes turned to look at him.

"Well, if you really want to find her, you could use this." Albus pulled his snitch out of his pocket, beaming like it was some big accomplishment. He carried the thing everywhere, though Scorpius understood neither his obsession with it nor his interest in Quidditch.

"Hm? What's this?" Mr. Weasley asked, frowning slightly as Albus held it out between his fingers so they could all see it.

"Well, erm, don't tell Dad, but James sorta found this map in his study..."

"The Marauder's Map? Is that where it went? Bloody hell." Mr. Weasley laughed, and Albus grinned uneasily.

"Yeah, that. I studied it a bit. I haven't quite figured out how to do it yet, but I did manage to modify the Homonculous Charm a bit. So if someone's within a few square kilometers, this thing'll find them. Well, most of the time. It has a few bugs. But it's better than nothing, right?"

"Lemme see that?" Mr. Weasley held out his hand, and Albus dropped the snitch into it.

"I open at the close," Rose muttered as she leaned over to inspect it herself. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dunno. Found it in a box of things in the attic." Albus shrugged, and Mr. Weasley just shook his head and laughed. "Guess it has something to do with the war, since Dad got __that__ look when he saw it."

"You'll have to ask Harry about it some day, Al. It's a bloody good story. So, how do I use this thing?"

"Just hold it out, say 'find', and then say the name of the person you're looking for."

"Brilliant." Mr. Weasley pocketed it, patting the spot once before pushing back his robes and resting his hand on his hip. "Now, straight to the Great Hall, all of you."

They mumbled their understanding, and Albus took the lead with Rose close behind. Scorpius made to follow, but Mr. Weasley stepped into his path, blocking the way.

"Uh, not you, Malfoy. Scorpius, was it?"

All he could do was nod as he fought to swallow the lump in his throat. Mr. Weasley knew. That must be it. After how hard they had tried to keep it a secret, despite agreeing that their families just wouldn't _understand_ and it was easier that way, Mr. Weasley had found out about him and Rose. Now, he was dead. No two ways about that.

"Listen," Mr. Weasley paused to glance over his shoulder, where Rose and Albus were watching from the door to the Grand Staircase, no doubt wondering what the hold up was. He leaned in closer so only they could hear and planted a hand on Scorpius' shoulder. The teen was afraid he would buckle under the pressure, even as he tried to steady his resolve. "Rose is my only daughter. I'd trust a Malfoy 'bout as much as I'd trust a rat, but I don't have much choice here. So just...I mean, if something happens...you watch her, you hear? Can you manage that?"

"Y-," Scorpius' voice cracked as relief cascaded over him. So Mr. Weasley didn't know after all. Their secret was still safe—for now. Scorpius cleared his throat and said, "Yes, sir. Of course."

"Good. Now, go." Mr. Weasley motioned with his head, and Scorpius was all too happy for the chance to escape. He had only taken two steps before Mr. Weasley grabbed his arm and pulled him back. "Oh, and don't think I haven't noticed all the time you've been spending with my daughter. I have a few choice words for you, I'll have you know, but we'll talk about that later."

Scorpius nodded as he shoved his hands in his pockets to keep anyone from seeing them shake. Merlin, his stomach was doing somersaults already, and if his nerves frayed any more, they were bound to snap. He was thankful when he finally reached the Grand Staircase and descended the last flight of stairs to the ground floor.

"What was that about?" Albus asked, but Scorpius just shook his head.

"Nothing."

Rose knew he was lying, judging by the way she bit her lip; still, she said nothing. After a minute, she smiled, jumped the last trick step, and overtook Albus for the lead.

"C'mon. We'd better find Hugo," she called over her shoulder and took off towards the Great Hall.

What had he gotten himself into? Scorpius had known from the start, from the moment they had all met, that the Potters and the Weasleys would be trouble, and he hadn't been wrong.

But some things were worth the risk. Surely Father, of all people, would understand that. The Blacks had a long history of risking everything for love. Aunt Andromeda was burned off the Black family tree for it. Grandmother stood by Grandfather even through his time in Azkaban. And Mother had always been with Father, despite the allegations. Despite the stigma around the Malfoy name, she gladly accepted it as her own. If it was a burden, it never showed.

He had meant what he said, though, every word. He would always fight for Rose, whatever the cost. Maybe that was okay.

* * *

 ** **Author's Note:**** This chapter is dedicated to Lady Arturia, who was actually the writer of the very first Scorose I ever read, Lithium, which I really enjoyed. I know Scorose is one of her favorite pairings, so I hope I lived up to your expectations, and I hope you enjoy this chapter.

 **Edit** : Lots of thanks to Red, Gally, and Lamia for pointing out problems with the original chapter. I rewrote it so that hopefully it makes more sense. Also, thanks to the lovely Cara (Lenore) for helping me with Ron. Gosh, that character is a pain in my bum to write.

 ** **Prompts:****

\- (last line) Maybe that was okay.

\- Outside forces are any characters that aren't your main characters or events outside of their control. They threaten your characters and everything they're trying to build. They should have a negative impact on your story, and actions must be taken against them.


	6. The Weed and the Flower

**Chapter 6**

 **The Weed and the Flower**

" _Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them." ~ A. A. Milne_

 **[October 21, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

As far as Hermione was concerned, the Forbidden Forest gobbled up all sense of time. Hours must have passed already, she knew that much at least, but beyond that, it was anyone's best guess. Her calves were on fire, and more than just a few cuts and bruises mottled our skin, though the darkness hid them well.

"Are you _sure_ there are werewolves in these woods?" Malfoy asked from ahead of her. He stopped to catch his breath, leaning his back against a trunk and resting his hands on his knees.

"Well, no, not really," Hermione admitted, making the most of the opportunity to rest by collapsing onto a nearby log. "But _something_ is in these woods."

Malfoy said nothing, but she had no doubts he felt it, too. He _must_ have. It—whatever "it" was, since even she wasn't sure—lingered like dewdrops on everything, trailing goosebumps up her arms. The woods she had known during all her field studies in her early days of the Ministry, back when she was with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had been vibrant and lively, comforting like a security blanket. Now, she felt like that same blanket was trying to smother her.

"We should keep moving." Hermione grunted against the aches in her body—when had she gotten so old?—as she stood and shook the fatigue from her muscles.

Malfoy nodded and straightened up, raising his cane as he did so and showering them in a soft light.

Hermione took the lead, picking her way through the underbrush. If there was one thing she had learned from her position years ago, it was to watch where she stepped. They fell into a silent rhythm—step, _crunch,_ step, _thwack,_ step, _crack_ —at a slower pace than before, but progress was still progress.

"What will happen to the Ministry?"

Hermione flinched at the random question. It was a thought she had intentionally—and successfully—put from her mind. Her department had been mostly abandoned, but the rest of the Ministry? At least the threat was contained, though there was always that niggling thought dangling at the end: for now.

"I...don't know," she admitted, not looking back and not letting up her pace. "By morning, those werewolves will be witches and wizards again, and the Aurors can round them up easily enough, I imagine."

"Or," just by the way Malfoy drew out the word, Hermione knew she was going to hate what came next, "by the morning, those werewolves will be witches and wizards and the Ministry will become a war zone."

"Well," Hermione grunted as she pulled herself up the rest of a steep incline using a branch as leverage, "we can't exactly worry about that right now, can we? Forgive me if I've got other things on my mind."

"Of course."

Down another slope. She was getting better at it, leaning back against gravity as the ground shifted under her, letting it carry her bit by bit down the incline. When she hit the bottom, the ground squished under her feet, and she wrinkled her nose at the feeling of her heels sinking in. Why was there so much give? Behind her, Malfoy must have hit the ground, too, because he issued a groan of disgust. The light bounced around the trees as he fiddled with his shoes, but Hermione pressed on.

They were close to the heart of the forest now, maybe even slightly past it. They wouldn't have to go all the way to Hogwarts, not if they could find some inkling to suggest what was happening before then. If they could just find—Merlin, what was wrong with her shoe? She tugged against it, and it threatened to come off before it finally wrenched free with a _schloop_.

"Erm, Hermione?"

The light was bobbing wildly now, and she couldn't make out a damn thing between the strobe-light patterns.

"Hold the light still, will you? I think there's something—"

No, she was sure of it, despite the chaotic lighting. There was something churning under their feet.

" _Hermione_."

The name was little more than a hiss, and she whirled around in response. Malfoy was shaking his leg frantically—that explained the poor lighting—and the harder he shook, the faster a tendril snaked up it. One was already progressing, albeit it slower, on his other leg, locking him in place.

"Devil's snare!" Hermione gasped as a tendril wrapped itself around her ankle like a shackle. Just what they needed. "Stop struggling."

"What?"

If her heart wasn't racing so fast and adrenaline starting to course through her veins, she might have found it amusing the way his voice, even at his age, raised slightly under stress. Somehow, it just wasn't the time for it, though.

"If you struggle, it moves faster. You have to trust me. Stop struggling."

Even in the dim light from his wand, he looked doubtful, but he listened just the same. The plant had already worked its way up to his waist and to her calves, but its pace slowed once they stopped moving.

Hermione pulled out her wand and barely had time to finish aiming it at her feet before a light blue jet erupted from it, morphing into blue flames. The effect was immediate; the plant withdrew from her ankle, and as she enlarged the flame, the Devil's snare cleared a path on the ground like the parting of the proverbial sea.

Malfoy released an audible sigh, and she realized, with a bit of satisfaction, that he must have been holding his breath as he awaited whatever rescue she had in store. Some knight he was.

"Hurry." She motioned her head down the path, and he ran ahead of her. She kept the plant at bay just long enough for them to safely pass, and then it closed up behind them, settling back into place as if nothing had disturbed it.

"Bloody forest," Malfoy muttered under his breath as he shook out his clothes—an action which was half-comical, given how filthy they both were already.

"Just a bit of Devil's Snare. The trick is to not panic."

"Easy for you to say. You weren't close to being strangled to death by a bloody plant." Malfoy's frown deepened as he adjusted his cane, kicking up the intensity of his _Lumos_ so they could see more of the forest. "How do you remember all those things, anyway? All the plants, I mean, and the right spells."

"I...I don't know. I just do."

"Well, there's something to be said for that. It's impressive, I suppose."

Why was her face heating up like a foolish school girl? Because Malfoy had given her an almost-compliment? No, that wasn't quite it. Because someone who had spent most of his life telling her she was nothing had admitted that she was something, in a way, and it felt good, after all this time, even if she didn't need to hear him say it.

"We, um, we should keep going," Hermione said, since she couldn't think of anything better, as she started towards Hogwarts again. This wasn't exactly how she had planned on spending her evening, but it could have been worse. She could have been stuck in the forest with Umbridge. Now _there_ was a thought that made her shudder.

"You know," Malfoy called from behind her, though she didn't turn to look at him, "if things had gone differently, we could have—"

"What, ended up together?" Hermione snorted at the thought.

"Merlin no. That never would've happened." Malfoy scoffed, and a fire flared up inside her, causing her cheeks and chest to burn with indignation.

"Oh, that's right. Because I'm just a Mudblood."

"No, because you're an insufferable, annoying, self-righteous git."

Hermione stopped short at that, and Malfoy plowed into the back of her with an, " _Oompf_." Truth be told, that wasn't anything near what she had expected, and she had no response. The best she could manage was a very eloquent, "What?"

"I was going to say we could have been friends." Malfoy sighed as he switched his cane to the other hand and swept his hair out of his face. "I admit, there _is_ an ulterior motive to me wanting us to get along."

"Oh?" Now _that_ one she'd expected, and she raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms as she waited for him to elaborate.

"Don't give me that look. It's nothing sinister. At least give me the benefit of the doubt. It's for our children. Were you aware that they're seeing each other?"

"That's ridiculous. We don't have time for this."

Hermione started back on her path as she shook her head, trudging on through the forest.

"Is it really all that hard to believe?" Malfoy quickened his pace to catch up so they were walking side by side.

"Rose doesn't have a boyfriend. If she did, she would have told me. I have a very good relationship with my daughter, I'll have you know, and we _don't_ keep secrets from each other."

"She would have told you? Even if it was someone she was sure her parents would hate? Someone her parents would forbid her from seeing?"

Hermione clenched her jaw but didn't answer. _Of course Rose would tell me_. That's what she wanted to say. _But_...There was always a but. She had been a teenager once; she wasn't so naïve as to believe that she was an exception. All the secrets she'd kept from her parents. They knew nothing, in the grand scheme of things, about her life. Hell, she'd even wiped their memories completely by the time she was seventeen. That was _her_ world, though, and not Rose's, but maybe...

"They're growing up," Malfoy said, cutting through thoughts. "Keeping secrets is to be expected."

"How do you even know this?"

"Legilimens."

"You pried into your own son's mind?"

The thought alone of such a blatant betrayal of privacy made her cringe. Malfoy looked at her sideways, and his tone was calm and patient as he answered.

"I told you before, I intend to do everything in my power to ensure his future. I know how I was as a teenager. That's not what I want for my son. If it means crossing certain boundaries, then so be it."

There was such conviction in his eyes as they seemed to stare through her. For once, she found herself trusting his motives. He hadn't set out to betray anyone; not this time, at least. For once.

Hermione pushed on without comment, but she mulled over the idea. Like all mothers, she had known Rose had a crush, at the very least; like all teenagers, Rose had thought herself clever. But a _Malfoy_? Ron would be furious. And she...she should...

Hermione sighed as she used a slicing charm to break through a batch of underbrush and slipped through to the other side. She would do nothing, because if it was love, what _could_ she do? This was one thing Rose would have to figure out on her own.

 **...oOo...**

 _ **[December 22, 2020]**_

 _ **[one year ago]**_

" _You'll be late for work," Hermione said for the fifth time that morning. Yes, she'd been counting, not that it did any good. Ron's nose was still buried in the_ Prophet _, and his cereal was soggy by that point, forgotten in its bowl._

" _Yes, of course, I'm going. But do you see this, 'Mione? The Harpies won! Again!" Ron hit the newspaper, causing it to crumple in on itself, before he finally set it aside and turned his attention to his breakfast. "That's four games in a row. I was so sure this time..."_

" _I still can't believe you're betting against your sister."_

" _Well, Harry couldn't bloody well do it, could he? Blimey, Ginny's right scary when she's mad, and could you imagine what she'd do if she found out? It was a mercy bet, I swear."_

" _Uh-huh. Sure."_

" _Wasn't just me. George bet on Puddlemere, too, you know."_

" _And now you've both lost. Should have had more faith in your sister's team, Ron."_

" _Yeah, and if I had, she'd a lost just to spite me."_

 _Hermione shook her head as she cleared what was left of Hugo's plates from the table. He'd run off to...somewhere. The older they got, the harder it was to tell exactly where the kids were off to. She glanced up at the grandfather clock in the corner that had been Molly's wedding gift to them. Hugo's arrow was pointed out at the Potters. Why did that not surprise her?_

 _She pulled her attention away from the clock as Rose shuffled into the kitchen and took a seat across from her father._

" _Hungry?" Hermione asked, but Rose simply shook her head. Something was up. Hermione knew the warning signs, but she was almost afraid to ask. Part of her wanted Rose to stay her little girl forever, as illogical as that was. Finally, she mustered up the courage. "Something wrong, sweetie?"_

" _No. It's just...Can I ask you a question?"_

" _Of course." Hermione grabbed her coffee cup and took a seat in the chair beside Rose. "What's on your mind?"_

" _How did you know you were in love with Dad?"_

 _At the other end of the table, Ron coughed and spluttered, face turning bright red as he fought to swallow the food that was lodged in his windpipe._

" _Honestly, Ron," Hermione said, but she smiled just the same because it was the first time "the L-word" had reared its ugly head in this context and it was time, whether he liked it or not._

" _I mean, was it love at first sight?" Rose whispered, leaning closer and ignoring her father's coughing fit._

" _Heavens no." Hermione laughed so hard at the thought of their first encounter that she was afraid she wouldn't be able to stop, but Ron shot her a dirty look across the table, and she managed to reel it back in. "Honey, love at first sight only exists in fairy tales. In reality, love is something that has to grow over time. You don't necessarily start out loving someone. You learn to love them as you get to know them."_

" _But how do you_ know _it's love?" Rose insisted._

" _Right, I'm late for work," Ron interjected, clearing his throat and tucking the_ Prophet _under his arm as he stood up._

" _You'll know it's love when you've learned all of their faults and shortcomings and you still love them in spite of everything."_

" _Besides, sweetheart," Ron added as he stopped by Rose's chair and kissed the top of her head, "you're much too young for love and boys and stuff."_

 _Hermione quirked her eyebrows as Ron pecked her on the cheek in passing and grabbed his outer robes off the hook. She could have pointed out that they were the same age as Rose when they had attended the Yule Ball and she had felt the first butterflies flutter, had her first inkling. She could have, but she didn't. Ron wasn't ready yet to have his heart broken._

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 21, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

Hermione shook her head as her foot snagged on a root, and the only thing that kept her from face-planting was Malfoy's quick thinking and his grip on her arm. She was too distracted now, and that was dangerous, but she couldn't bring herself to dismiss the thoughts, either.

What if the boy Rose had been so confused over _was_ a Malfoy? Would it matter? She had always prided herself on being reasonable and level-headed, ever fighting for justice and equality, but was that really the truth? Or was she just better at hiding her own prejudices?

"If," Hermione began, skirting the outside of what appeared to be a bog, "if you're right and they are...Well, what exactly do you want me to do about it?"

"Convincing your husband not to hex my son into oblivion would be a good place to start." Malfoy grimaced as he stepped too close to the edge and his shoes made a loud _squick_ as he pulled them free. "The boy's terrified of him. I can't imagine why. Scorpius is a competent duelist—I made sure of that—and it's _Weasley_ , after all. But he wants to make a good impression."

"I suppose I can do that much. They're just kids, after all."

It was a start, and Malfoy seemed content having come to that much of an agreement, and they lapsed back into silence. They passed tree after endless tree, all dressed the same in identical foliage and vines, all blending together. Creatures were rarer, though they came across the occasional animal. For the most part, it seemed like everything was in hiding, almost, and Hermione immediately regretted thinking it. She didn't like the idea that they knew something she didn't.

Even though they couldn't see the sky, and it was perpetually dark under the canopy, to some extent, it must have been getting close to morning. She was exhausted, both body and spirit, and even Draco was showing obvious signs of fatigue.

Hermione was just beginning to wonder if there was actually anything worth finding or if it had all been in her mind when distant rustling broke the silence.

"Something's up ahead," Malfoy whispered, dimming his wand.

Hermione nodded and adjusted her pace accordingly. More than one "somethings," judging by the sound. She crouched lower, careful of where she stepped, trying to keep the noise to a minimum. Sneaking wasn't exactly her forte, though, and certainly not in heels and not when her feet were killing her. What she wouldn't give for a good, old-fashioned pair of trainers.

Before they could get too close, a large, black creature erupted from the bushes, followed by another and then two more. At first, they were just looming, amorphous shadows, but Hermione quickly recognized the milky-white eyes and leathery wings.

"They're just thestrals."

As relieved as she was that it wasn't anything worse, Malfoy didn't seem to share the emotion. His grip on his cane remained firm, and he held the light in front of them as if it would keep the creatures at bay. It didn't work.

They shied closer, and Malfoy took a step back. Hermione wasn't concerned about it—at first. But there was something in the way they stamped their hooves and shifted their feet, something about how they flexed and relaxed their wings. They were nervous.

"There's something wrong," she said, shaking her head. "This isn't right. Why are they acting this way?"

"Now's not a good time to ask questions. We should go."

Malfoy gripped her arm and tugged her to the right, but the sudden movement was all it took. The closest thestral reared back and lunged. They broke apart, Malfoy on one side and her on the other, letting it pass between them with mere inches to spare. Thestrals weren't aggressive by nature, but there _was_ a reason they had a XXXX rating, and she didn't want to be on the wrong side of a spooked one, that was for sure.

There was no time to react, though, as the other three followed the first. She dodged one, but couldn't get out of the way fast enough to avoid the next. It was like hitting a furry brick wall; the world spun, and she found herself on the ground with the air knocked out of her, struggling to make sense of what had happened. But there was no time. Another shadow loomed over her, and she saw it, but she couldn't move fast enough.

"Look out!"

Someone was over her. He cast a hasty shield, but it was rushed and too weak; it absorbed part of the blow, but he was still knocked back several feet and thrown onto his back. But that was all the time she needed. Hermione's senses kicked in, and she rolled out of the path of the last thestral's hooves.

She grabbed her wand out of the leaves where it had fallen from her robe and scrambled to her feet, but they had already disappeared into the forest, and she wasn't about to go after them.

Malfoy groaned as he pushed himself into a sitting position. He had a few new cuts, and Hermione ventured a guess that he'd hate himself in the morning, if they made it that long, but he was in one piece, at least. They both were.

"Why would you do that?" she asked as she offered her hand to help him up. "Why would you try to protect me?"

"Don't flatter yourself." He took her hand and hoisted himself up, brushing rotted leaves off his robes and picking a few from his hair. "I just reacted."

He was lying, and poorly, given that it was painfully obvious. For the first time, she realized that he really _was_ trying, and as hard as it was for her, Hermione couldn't imagine he had an easier time with it.

Hermione had always thought of him as a weed whose presence was choking the life out of those around him. He wasn't exactly a flower now, goodness no, but he had _potential_ , at least. Besides which, she was much less tempted to poison him.

Maybe, just maybe, if they tried hard enough, they _could_ change the things between them. Maybe it had been in them all along.

 **...oOo...**

 _ **[September 1, 2019]**_

 _ **[2 years ago]**_

" _Let's go, Hugo. If you don't pick up the pace, you'll be late." Hermione twirled her hand in a circle, bidding him to move faster. Ron and Rose had already disappeared through the brick wall and onto the platform. Despite the warning—for the hundredth time that morning—Hugo continued to drag his feet. If that wasn't a clear sign, she didn't know what was. Merlin, the boy was as transparent as his father._

" _What's wrong, dear?" Hermione asked, glancing at the large clock on the station wall. They had time still. No need to rush quite yet._

" _Nothing," Hugo mumbled, the word nearly lost amid the din of the train station._

" _First-year jitters?"_

 _Hugo seemed surprised as he looked up at her._

" _Is...is that a real thing?"_

" _Sure, why not? I thought I was going to puke as I waited for the train my first year, I was so nervous."_

" _Gross, Mum." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "Rosie didn't seem to have a problem."_

" _Well, that's Rosie. We're talking about you. It's perfectly normal to feel nervous."_

 _Hugo shrugged and looked away. He was clearly unconvinced._

" _It's just...Rosie's so smart, you know? She's good at just about everything. But...what if I'm no good at anything?"_

" _You're good at plenty of things."_

" _No, I'm not. Not like Rosie. What if I fail out of Hogwarts?"_

 _Oh, where to even start? With the fact that no one had_ ever _failed out of Hogwarts that she knew of, and if Crabbe and Goyle hadn't managed, it was a safe bet that Hugo wouldn't either? Or with the fact that Rose herself had rather disappointing marks in Potions last year and managed her grades not because she was perfect but because she worked at it and sacrificed social time to study? Hermione was no stranger to that herself. No, an eleven-year-old didn't want to hear any of it._

" _Do you remember that book I used to read to you when you were little? Beedle the Bard?"_

 _Hugo looked at her sideways, nodding as he scrunched up his face, skeptical of where the conversation was heading. She had all she could do not to laugh at his cuteness._

" _There was one story, 'The Fountain of Fair Fortune.' Do you remember? Four people were competing for the chance to bathe in the fountain, since only one of them would be allowed to do so and get their heart's desire."_

" _Yeah, but that story was stupid. The fountain didn't even_ do _anything."_

" _That's right, but I think you missed the point. The power was in them all along._ They _were the ones who could make their dreams happen, if they just put in the effort. Everyone has the power to change their future if that's really what they want. So the secret to it all is if you find something that you enjoy, put in the effort until you're great at it."_

" _You think...I mean, you really think that'll work?"_

" _Of course, dear." Much to his horror, she pulled him into a hug—yes, right there in front of everyone in the station. She made sure it was brief, patting his back reassuringly. "Besides, between you and me, your father couldn't even do a simple Levitation Charm when he started, and look at him now. Never would have guessed, would you?"_

" _Really? He told me he took out a troll his first year."_

" _Erm, well, sort of. Harry did most of the work, I think, though Ron_ did _shove his wand up its nose."_

" _That's not how Dad tells it."_

" _No, I imagine not."_

 _Hermione glanced again at the clock. They were running out of time, and no doubt Ron and Rose thought the worst by now. It was time they get moving again._

" _Let's go now. You'll be late."_

 _The hundredth and first time. It must have been a magic number, though, because this one took, and Hugo crossed the barrier onto Platform 9 ¾ without further reservations._

 **...oOo...**

 **[October 20, 2021]**

 **[present day]**

Hugo had done it, not without some effort. Quidditch had come as naturally to him as it had Hermione, which was to say not at all, but he had dedicated the time and effort to make it work. What kind of hypocrite would she be if she didn't at least try herself?

It wasn't like there was suddenly going to be some big Malfoy/Weasley unification going on, but maybe if they invited Scorpius for dinner, just once to start with...

"Shouldn't we be moving along?"

"Hm?" Hermione didn't realize she had stopped, but Malfoy was now in front of her, wearing his annoyance clearly enough. "Yes, of course."

She pushed the thoughts aside and kept walking. There was plenty of time to worry about all these things. They had a task at hand that required her attention first and foremost. Though, if she were honest, she didn't want to focus on that, either.

"Have you thought about what we'll do if we actually come across a werewolf between here and Hogwarts?" Draco asked several minutes later. The ground had evened out, and the going was a bit easier.

"All this time we've been at it, and you're just thinking," she whisked a mess of hair out of her face as she stumbled along, "to ask of it now?"

"Yes, well, I didn't think anything of it until you reacted so poorly to the acromantulas..."

Hermione didn't understand at first, but when the realization dawned on her, she exhaled with a hiss.

"Those are _people, Mr. Malfoy_. You can't just set them on fire."

"No, of course not."

The light from his wand wiggled as he waved his hand to dismiss the thought. Hermione held a branch for him to pass, though it did occur to her how easy it would have been just to let it go.

"Fire was a special case for the acromantulas. I wouldn't expect to use it on _werewolves_ , but I can't say there would be no injuries, either."

Hermione couldn't argue with that. She would have liked to, but the reality of it was that a wild werewolf was a challenge to subdue and a danger to everyone involved—including themselves.

"Just...do what you need to short of killing them."

"Fair enough."

They only made it a few more steps before Malfoy stuck his cane in front of her and motioned for her to be silent. He touched his finger to his ear lightly, the sign for her to listen, and she did—to silence. After a few seconds, she realized there was something else, a steady drumbeat that she hadn't noticed. They were hooves. She was almost sure of it.

"Centaurs?" she whispered, and Malfoy shrugged. Hermione focused on the hoof-beats, trying to count them as they fell. No, just one centaur, by the sound of it. It slowed to an occasional _clop_ as it drew closer _._ Must have seen the light. Malfoy raised his eyebrows at her as if asking, _What now?,_ but she just shook her head. No use in hiding. Not over one centaur. Besides, it was their best shot at getting information.

Hermione held her breath as a pale shape peeled from the shadows, one arm in front of his face as he stepped into the light.

"Ms. Granger?"

That voice! Thank Merlin! So their luck wasn't all bad after all.

"Firenze?" she asked, struggling to see his features to be sure.

Draco lowered his cane, pointing it towards the ground so the light that surrounded them was softer and their eyes could adjust. The centaur lowered his arm and blinked his large, round eyes as he took them in.

"What on Earth are you doing here?" His tone was as intentional and melodic as always. If there was anything stressing him, he was good at hiding it.

"We have reason to believe Hogwarts may be in danger. If you've seen anything..."

"Seen, no. But the stars," Firenze motioned skyward as he looked up, "they've been warning of danger for days now."

He lowered his gaze, and the wand-light reflected off them in an eerie way as he knit his eyebrows.

"You should leave this forest, Ms. Granger, before it's too late. There are horrible things in these trees lately, Dark things that put everyone ill at ease. I'm sorry I can't say more, but I, too, must go."

Hermione didn't even have time to object before Firenze bowed his torso and vaulted past them, heading deeper into the woods where they had come from. So much for being able to get help. This just wasn't her evening. Merlin, what an understatement that was.

Before she could decide how to react, Malfoy had a grip on her shoulder, pushing her forward into the trees. Hermione dug in her heels, but he was insistent and the pressure never wavered.

"We need to go," he whispered in her ear, and she didn't understand, at first, the sudden urge.

From somewhere in the depths of the trees, a lone wolf howled. All around them, one at a time, other wolves took up the lament. In the distance, the sky was starting to gray.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** It's been a while since I updated this! I've gone back and edited chapter 5 so that hopefully it makes more sense and isn't so...full of plot holes?

 **Prompts:**

Quidditch Through the Ages:

Pitch: There should be visible improvements on something, and they should work more effectively as a team by the end of the chapter.

 _(Quote) "Weeds are flowers, too, once you get to know them." ~ A. A. Milne_

Multi-Chapter List Challenge:

(Plot & Character) Show a change in your protagonist's mindset/actions/morals/etc in this chapter

(Devices & Structure) Use an extended metaphor.

(Devices & Structure) Use a simile.

(Devices & Structure) Use metonymy in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Include a flashback in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use foreshadowing in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use third person limited narration in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Include a cliffhanger at the end of this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) Use more than three settings in this chapter.

(Devices & Structure) This chapter includes humor.

(Devices & Structure) In this chapter, someone does something that would, under normal circumstances, be considered out of character for them.

(Devices & Structure) This chapter features a character letting go of a long-held grudge.

(Story-Wide Prompts) Your story includes a morally gray character in the main cast.


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